


Removing my Mask

by moomilkymoon



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Cult, Dark, Drugging, Friends to Lovers, Gangs, It's not actually depicted though, I’ll add warnings before chapters, I’ll probably add more tags as I go, M/M, May add more characters and relationships too, May get graphic (violent), Past Abuse, Potential triggering themes, Psychological, Psychological Trauma, Rated For Violence, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, This shit is morbid, Violence, a lot of swearing, mild Self-harm, suggested rape/non-con, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2020-07-19 07:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 89,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19970056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moomilkymoon/pseuds/moomilkymoon
Summary: “Cai Xukun…” Ziyi whispered almost inaudibly. The boy in front of him shivered furiously, and Ziyi didn’t know if it was because of the frosty air that nipped at his ears or because he was scared to pitiful pieces. Perhaps it was both.Xukun spoke only once more before he was pulled inside by the older. His voice was small but drowned in panic. He looked as though he would collapse from both emotional and physical exhaustion alike.“I didn’t know where else to go.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever posting a fanfic and I’m doing it on a whim :’) I’m sorry if this is bad I wrote it at like midnight lol.

Xukun often experienced sporadic fearlessness. He sometimes believed he could escape the place he was trapped in.  
Not often, but sometimes.  
He never acted upon his sudden outbursts of bravery. Not until one night, that is, when he took his first step towards freedom. He followed in the footsteps of an old friend. 

***

12:26am

Zhengting saw him for the first time on a friday at half past midnight. He had been working a night shift and missed the last bus because his coworker showed fifteen minutes late. The boy ran a hand through his chocolate coloured strands with a loud sigh. The sky was especially dark and foreboding that night. As every object around him seemed to fade beneath the veil of blackness, the boy couldn’t help but feel dreadfully enclosed. It didn’t help that whilst the city stood blanketed in soft, white fragments, there came an unexpected air of numbness to the enclosure. When muffled under the piling of snow, the world seemed even more barren than usual. It was almost, he would say, like a deserted wasteland. 

Zhengting definitely didn’t like the dark.

With an uttered curse to no one in particular, the boy worked his slender hands into the slits of his coat and gently tucked his chin into the rim of it. Reluctantly, he shuffled past the bus stop and tried to forget the hairs sticking up from the back of his neck. For the upcoming several minutes, all was silent. Even the air, god forbid, felt unenthusiastic. And it was only when several minutes of tranquil trudging had fled by that he first heard something. It was a faint tapping that he came to realize was footsteps behind him that broke the quietude of the night. They quickly got faster, and _closer_. The running came paired with low, weary breaths. Zhengting held his own and willed himself not to look. _It’s probably just a night runner,_ he told himself. But the desperation behind the panting told him otherwise. 

Suddenly, he felt something run into his left shoulder and he stumbled to his knees, glasses flying away in the process. With widened eyes the boy’s head shot up to see what had happened. Sanding barely a meter away was another boy, perhaps his own age. The stranger had discheleved, dirty blonde hair that hung loosely over his face. His eyes were equally as wide as Zhengting’s, but rather than shock, they showed an uncomfortably raw form of fear. Zhengting could just make out dark splashes lathered over his coat and face. The stranger looked deeply afraid as his eyes darted from the boy he bumped into, to something beyond him. After a moment of nothing but unsteady panting from the blonde, the stranger quickly grabbed Zhengting’s glasses and shoved them into the owner’s hands. Zhengting blinked. 

“Th-Than-” But before he could finish, he was abruptly pulled to his feet. A bit too forcefully, he would say, for he stumbled forward before regaining his footing. Now face to face with the stranger and glasses placed over his nose, Zhengting scanned the other man. Upon closer inspection, he came to notice the stranger’s natural ebon hued hair peeking through his roots and deep, wine coloured circles carved beneath his irises. On the jacket that cloaked him were the dark splatters he had previously taken note of, although now Zhengting came to the fearful realization that they were, in fact, a crimson colour. The sudden awareness drowned him. He gulped. 

“You- You didn’t see me, okay?” The stranger spoke for the first time. When he heard his voice, Zhengting could safely say the stranger was young. _Did you commit a crime?_ Zhengting had wanted to ask but could not will himself to speak again. They stood in painful silence for a moment longer. Zhengting’s lips remained parted and his dark eyes bulging. After no longer than half a minute, the stranger’s vigorous fidgeting came to a sudden halt. Both stood completely motionless, and an eerie smile painted itself over the blonde’s lips, followed by a mirthless chuckle. As the laughter lacking any sign of authenticity continued, he looked to the ground and placed his fingertips over the bridge of his nose. The brunette simply stood and watched. He couldn’t comprehend any of it. It was grim, and at first, Zhengting was relieved when it had stopped. 

It stopped only because the other snapped. The blonde grabbed Zhengting by the collar and yanked him forward. Their faces stood only millimeters apart when the stranger spoke again, this time low and almost inaudible. His eyes were narrowed and threatening. They screamed that something ferocious lied within him, yet the fear was still present. Perhaps they came hand in hand with one another.  
“You. Didn’t. See. Me.” He repeated. Slowly. Carefully. Fear gripped at Zhengting’s throat and he could only nod. Yet even now, the stranger’s eyes could not stop bouncing between Zhengting and something beyond the brunette. When he was finally released, Zhengting warily glanced behind himself, wondering what feared the crazy man in front of him. 

Nothing. There was nothing. The world was as he had left it. Blackened sky. Muffled wind. Deserted streets and pearly snow. Not another soul in sight. 

And when he turned back, the stranger had disappeared. Vanished. His breath escaped him. 

***

1:09am

There was a heavy knock against the door. Ziyi opened his eyes and groggily sat up from his couch. He realized that he had fallen asleep watching tv again. The man sighed, reaching for the remote and shutting the screen off. He had been attentively watching for any news in the media for the past six months- for personal reasons. He knew he had to keep his guard up. With the tv off he grabbed his phone and checked for any new articles, but what he was looking for didn’t come up. Thankfully. His shoulders loosened. Then there was a second knock on the door, this one louder. Ziyi raised an eyebrow. 

“Who the hell knocks at 1:00am” He grumbled to himself. With the release of a long breath, Ziyi fell back into the couch. He allowed his eyelids to close and his body sink. However, only moments later he was interrupted once again. 

“Ziyi! Please, it’s me. I need help.” Despite being muffled behind a locked door, the desperation behind the person’s shaking voice was clear as day. And all too, too familiar. 

Immediately, Ziyi shot up from the couch and nearly fell from the suddenness of it. He stumbled across the room and had to grasp the doorknob to steady himself. He hesitated. Pressing an attentive ear against the door, Ziyi listened for others. He didn’t want to be caught in a trap, though the uneasiness in the boy’s voice made his heart ache for not opening immediately. There was only silence. Then, the boy behind the wood spoke again. This time, it was much quieter than before- almost weakened, as if it had been enfeebled by something massive. Ziyi’s soul crumbled to ashes. He had a good idea of what that something was. 

“Ziyi, please-” The voice broke when his name left the other’s lips, and he couldn’t hold back from swinging the door open. When it did, he came face to face with the boy. Long, dirty blonde hair. Sunken cheekbones stained with tears and blood. Body gaunt and face pallid. Scarlet patches were stained over his body. His eyes pleaded for help. 

“Cai Xukun…” Ziyi whispered almost inaudibly. The boy in front of him shivered furiously, and Ziyi didn’t know if it was because of the frosty air that nipped at his ears or because he was scared to pitiful pieces. Perhaps it was both. 

Xukun spoke only once more before he was pulled inside by the older. His voice was small but drowned in panic. He looked as though he would collapse from both emotional and physical exhaustion alike. 

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

***

1:15am

Zhengting sat on the end of his bed, then stood, then paced for a minute before finding himself down on the mattress once more. He repeated the pattern over, over, and over again. He loathed the uncertainty he felt in the pit of his stomach. Once enough courage had reached his throat, he stood- only for the uncertainty to grasp his legs and pull him down again. With a fingernail caught between teeth and twitching eyes, the boy finally stood once more and grabbed at the phone he had left on his desk. He sat back down on his bed, this time phone in hand. He went for a call and began to type. 

9….1….

Only another 1 and it would be over. His finger hovered over the number for what seemed like decades before he groaned and threw his phone over his pillow. He fell into the mattress and screamed into it. For some reason, he could not bring himself to finish the act. He made no calls. Instead, Zhengting simply commanded himself to forget the incident ever happened. 

“There are weirdos everywhere. Probably just some street thug who got into a stupid fight. Nothing to get worked up about. You’ll never even see him again.” 

He convinced himself.

***

1:37am

Ziyi placed a mug filled with coffee in front of Xukun. The younger had taken a shower and borrowed some of Ziyi’s clothes as his own were thrown into the trash. The blood wouldn’t wash off easily, so they decided to ditch them. The two had been fairly quiet since the blonde had arrived, only exchanging small words and nods. Once Xukun had cleaned up, they moved to the kitchen. Ziyi had offered to make some food but Xukun only shook his head. The younger was still shivering- in fear, that is. And his eyes darted towards the door every so often. When he wasn’t watching the door, he chewed on his shriveled, cracked lips. A nervous tic, Ziyi supposed. However, Xukun couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of it for more than a minute. He was always drawn to it. When he had been staring at the door for too long, Ziyi called his name. He turned back, and his teeth found their way to his bottom lip again. 

“Bro, you look terrible. Just eat.”  
Xukun shook his head.  
“I’ll give you just a little, then?”  
Xukun continuously refused.  
“Kun-” Ziyi started but his mouth shut as he stared at Xukun’s. His lips were like dried flour. With every pull and bite from the younger’s teeth, the lip seemed to crumble just a little more. He looked parched, above all else. Ziyi sighed.  
“Coffee?”  
Xukun hesitated. Ziyi took that as a yes. 

When the blonde had taken his first sip from the mug, Ziyi settled down across from him and simply stared. He noticed how the blonde’s brittle, bleeding nails scratched at the cup and frowned. After a few sips, the boy looked back at the door again. 

“Stop that. You’re making me nervous, Kun.” Ziyi spoke softly, not wanting to startle the other. Xukun seemed incredibly on edge, after all, but to the elder’s surprise, he chuckled at his words.  
“ _You’re_ nervous?”  
Ziyi shrugged. “You haven’t told me anything. I haven’t seen you in six months, Kun, and you suddenly show up at my door?” He tried getting Xukun to look at him but every time their eyes met the blonde quickly averted his gaze. “What happened?” Ziyi tried. Xukun tightened his grip over the coffee mug and allowed silence to overtake him again. He could feel Ziyi’s eyes burning onto his face, but kept his own gaze on the gently swaying, thermal liquid below him. His rhythmic scratching faded. He let out a long, shaky breath before answering.  
“I fucking ran, Ziyi. I left.” He swallowed hard. Then, his eyes met Ziyi’s for the first time that night. There was a spark in his eyes- one that told a melancholic story. And it was intense. He made one last remark before his eyes returned to their previous position. 

“Just like you did. Six months ago.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziyi and Xukun deal with the repercussions that follow their escape from their previous lifestyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice how the writing gets worse and worse :)

Ziyi quickly realized that Xukun couldn’t be left alone. At first, he didn’t really think twice about the younger being tied to his hip. They mostly stayed in his apartment, anyway. Ziyi checked the news. Xukun watched the door. Sure, there were a few instances where he was slightly taken aback by Xukun’s actions. But initially, he wasn’t too worried about them. 

Firstly, Xukun couldn’t sleep in a room alone. They solved this by pulling out a comforter and placing it next to Ziyi’s bed. Xukun also had nightmares and often spoke out in his sleep. Although it prevented his own rest, Ziyi didn’t mind too much. Above all else, he felt pity for the younger. He understood all too well what the blonde was going through, for he too experienced the trauma and the unsettling repercussions that followed. Although unlike Xukun, Ziyi was alone when faced with his growing perturbation. He recalled how much he wished to have someone to aid him in times of need. When these thoughts raided his mind, Ziyi found himself wanting to stay by the younger as much as possible. So he did. There were no complaints.

A second occasion was when the older attempted to go grocery shopping and Xukun had discouraged him.   
“We have enough food here, do it later.” He had said, and something shifted within those brown orbs when he did. Ziyi shrugged and complied without thinking too deeply about it. He didn’t mind staying, especially since he could keep a watchful eye over his friend. He couldn’t help but feel pained everytime he notice how raddled and worn Xukun had come to look. The boy appeared skeletal with his protruding bones and ailing physique. His memories had debilitated him, yes, but Ziyi felt sick thinking of the physical aspect that came out of Xukun's previous livelihood. 

Of _his_ previous livelihood. 

The man furrowed his brows. He had originally wanted to go get more groceries in order to help guide the emaciated blonde to health. But he followed Xukun's wishes. Although it hurt him. Deeply. 

However, it only really occurred to Ziyi when he had left for his dance class a couple days later. The blonde desperately tried to come up with reasons as to why he should stay, but Ziyi simply shook them away.   
“Bro, I need to leave the apartment _sometime_." He argued. It had been almost a week since Xukun arrived and neither of them had set foot outside the door ever since.   
“I know, I know. I’m just saying it’s supposed to rain later so you may as well skip out today.”  
“I practice indoors, Kun.”  
“Yeah, but-”  
“Look, I understand you might have a hard time leaving right now, I do. What you're feeling right now? I understand better than anyone. But Kun I have requirements that need to be fulfilled. Mask is miles away and-”   
Xukun tensed at the word and immediately cut the other off. “Fuck Ziyi- don’t talk about that, okay!? Don’t-” He sucked in his lips before moving on. This time his voice was lowered.  
“Go to your stupid dance thing, then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you get drenched in rain on your way back.” The boy seethed. Ziyi blinked. 

Xukun hadn’t really raised his voice at all since arriving a week prior. He always sounded fragile and every whispered word slipped out like shattered glass. For a moment, the older of the two wanted to smile. Not because Xukun was upset, but because he showed something outside of his accustomary doleful look. He wanted to, but relented from doing so.   
“Alright, see you in a few hours.” Ziyi replied softly. 

Xukun watched as the door closed behind the other. His heart sank to his toes. 

Ziyi was almost at the bus stop when he registered that he had forgotten his phone. He groaned and jogged back to the apartment.   
“I better not miss the bus.” He muttered as he fiddled with his keys to unlock the door.   
“Hey Kun, I’m just getting my phone.” He called when he entered the apartment. But Xukun was nowhere in sight. All was silent. 

Ziyi shrugged it off and assumed he had gone to the washroom. He began trawling through the kitchen before he remembered where he had left the device. The man headed for his own room, where he knew he had neglected the phone on his bedside table. He didn’t expect to see what he did. But there he was. 

And there was Xukun. 

He was curdled in the corner of the room with his knees brought up tightly against his chest. He trembled aggressively, and held a kitchen knife in both his hands. Firmly. His face was drained of all colour. He could not even look at Ziyi, who had just entered. His eyes were locked on a nothingness that grasped at his breath and held him in an unsettling stillness. 

At first, Ziyi could only stare dumbfoundedly. Then, with caution, he made his way towards the other. Xukun’s knuckles showed white as he kept them clenched around the knife’s handle. Ziyi quite literally had to pry his fingers off to get ahold of the weapon. It was placed on his bedside table before he turned back to Xukun. The older knelt in front of him. 

Xukun had been indirectly telling him for days that he couldn’t be left alone, yet Ziyi failed to recognize the severity of the situation. He berated himself for his lack in heeding the signs, and came to regret his obliviousness as he observed a trembling Xukun. He merely watched the blonde for a few minutes before gaining the courage to speak to him.   
“Sorry, Kun,” he began, “I didn’t realize- I should have…I-I don’t know.”

Xukun met eyes with him and Ziyi stared into the younger’s. They were the colour of cocoa. They haven’t changed in colour- nor have they changed in emotion. The fear was still present and flourished. The same one he had seen the last time he was with Xukun. Six months prior.

“The door opened- You said you would be gone for a few hours but it opened again- only several minutes later and I- I panicked. I thought you were- I thought it was.... _them_.” Xukun ended in a whisper, shuddering as the last word left his lips. “I thought they found me. I thought I was going back. That I would face punishment for running away and I-” 

He was cut off by Ziyi pulling him in for an embrace. The older wrapped his arms around the other and Xukun let his forehead fall against Ziyi’s shoulder. Although the blonde didn’t return the hold, and instead kept his arms wrapped around his legs, the older did feel his body loosen from it’s tensity.  
“I should have listened.” Ziyi said against the other’s ear.  
“You’re a moron.” Was the reply.   
“A bit. You’re reasoning was rain, though.”  
“Shut up, I tried.”   
Ziyi chuckled lightly at his reply. Xukun smiled, only because he knew Ziyi wouldn’t be able to see it. They stayed like that for a moment before the older pulled away.   
“You know…they don’t know where I am.” Ziyi started. “You were the only one I told this location to before I left, Kun. It’s been half a year and I haven’t seen any sign of them. That being said, this place is safe. I promise.” 

Xukun eyed him for a moment, as if searching for something within the elder’s orbs. Ziyi shifted. 

“Why are you always checking the news, then?” Xukun finally rebuked. Ziyi stayed silent at that. He suddenly felt like a deer caught in headlights.   
“I know you’re looking for any signs of them in the media. You’re scared they’ll find you, aren't you.” The younger added. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Ziyi realized that Xukun could see right through him. He let out a long sigh, then smiled gently at the other.   
“I’m just...making sure, that’s all.” He said.   
Xukun nodded. “Okay” he acquiesced, but it still made him uneasy.

Needless to say, Ziyi didn’t go to his dance class that night. 

***

“Where the hell is Ziyi? Class was supposed to start twenty minutes ago!” Zhengting huffed as he stretched his legs into a split and began leaning forward. He shut his eyes as the stretch began to pain him.   
“He never misses a class- even when he’s sick. I’m a bit worried.” Zhangjing added. The smaller wasn’t really a dancer, but he was Zhengting’s best friend, so he came to a lot of their practices. Zhangjing insists that he likes coming- the others are certain Zhengting drags him there. Nonetheless, the elder's company is always welcomed. 

“I said we should just start without him five minutes ago but nobody listened. We’ve all finished stretching already. Twice." Zeren reminded them.   
“Maybe something came up and he couldn't make it. It’s not a big deal. I think we should just start.” Yanchen agreed.   
"See, Yanchen agrees with me!" Zeren ejaculated.   
"Doesn't count, you two are always on each other's sides." Chaoze cut in from the back of the room, where he practiced pirouetting.  
“Alright. Whatever. Let’s get on with it I guess.” Zhengting finally said with a sigh as he stood up. Just then, as if on cue, a bing went off on his phone. It was from Ziyi.

_'Sorry bro, can’t make it today. Something came up. I’ll catch up next week.'_

Zhengting squinted at his phone for a moment. Ziyi never missed a practice. Like, ever. He came to the conclusion that whatever this ‘something’ was, it was really important. Zhengting bit on the corner of his lip. He decided he would question the other about it next time they saw each other. The unfolding of events was just too unlike the other to accept without suspicion. 

***

Xukun was even more attentive to the door than before, if it was even possible, Ziyi thought. He spent most of the remainder of the day eyeballing it. As such, Ziyi decided for them that they'd spend their evening binge watching movies on the couch. He hoped it would distract the other from the anxious thoughts that seemed to take no break in corroding his mind.

It didn't. 

Xukun, to no surprise, paid more attention to the unmoving entrance. The raven haired male attempted to lure the other's attention towards the screen, but alas, it ended in complete failure. Eventually the man sighed and turned the movie off. Xukun's head spun back. 

"Why did you-"   
"It's getting late, why don't we head to bed?" Ziyi offered. He received a gentle nod as a response. 

Once he was settled beneath his covers, the older male pulled out his phone and began scrolling through headlines and news articles. As he sifted through them, his eyes searched for a couple words in particular: Mask. Cult. Religion. Leader. 

Nothing came up. There came a breath of relief. 

"Nothing?" A voice asked from across the room. Ziyi stared at the blonde for a moment. He gave a curt nod before quickly changing the subject.   
"Finish washing up?" He asked as he placed his phone back onto his bedside table.   
"Mhm."

The boy then headed for the comforter to the right of the older. With exchanged goodnight's the lights were shut off and they settled themselves within the newfound blackness. At first, there was nothing but gentle, rhythmic breathing. Several minutes had fled by and Ziyi remained laying on his side- wide awake. He glanced down at Xukun instinctively. The blonde's eyes were wide open. They were fixated on the bedroom door. Ziyi drew in his brows. 

"Kun, please, get some sleep." He whispered.   
There came no answer.   
"I swear they're not here." He added.   
It made no difference.

Ziyi let a low breath escape him and leaned over, gently placing his fingers over the other's chin. Slowly, he turned the younger's face towards him- but to higher importance, away from the wooden entrance. They stared at each other, even if the details were nebulous under the darkness of the room.   
"I'm worried about you."   
"But you also-"   
"I know I check for them as well- in my own way. I know." Ziyi acknowledged. "But I don't spend ninety percent of my time doing it- not anymore, at least. I'm also still…" he paused for a moment as he searched for the right word, "...recovering."   
The blonde simply listened.   
"But in the six months that I've had I've realized what it takes to move on from something like that. Like what we...experienced, you could say." The kept his fingers over the other's chin, albeit delicate- barely a touch. "You can go back to a normal life. You can live again. I'll admit, it's hard at first, but it'll get easier over time. Moving forward in life doing the things you like- slowly shifting away from the past. It's healing. Sure, our memories won't disappear, but they'll become distant. And they can be replaced with new ones. Better ones. Understand?" 

Xukun kept his eyes locked on the others for what felt like an eternity before he finally gave a small nod. Ziyi offered a faint smile, and he pulled his hand away from the other. He reveled over the fact that Xukun was now facing the other way- one opposing the door. Fifteen minutes had passed before he heard the blonde speak again. 

"I want to heal too."

***

The next week Ziyi refused to skip his dance class once again. He had received multiple texts from Zhengting questioning him about his absence the last time and promised to be present when the class rolled around again.   
Regarding Xukun, he had it all figured out.

_'I have a friend who's coming along if you don't mind. He might join permanently if he enjoys it.'_

Was the text Ziyi sent merely half an hour before the practice. 

As he promised, he showed up.   
With Xukun. 

"Glad you didn't bail again." Zhengting grinned as he greeted his raven haired friend. Ziyi returned a nervous smile.   
"Of course. You didn't really think I wouldn't be back, did you?" He asked with distinct playfulness. 

"I sure hope not. By the way, who's the friend you wanted to bring alon-" Zhengting's mouth remained wide open when he saw who entered the room behind Ziyi.

Xukun's mouth grew equally as large once he spotted the familiar brunette.

"Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not totally happy with this chapter yet but I want to post regularly and knowing myself I won't be content with my work no matter what so I just said WHAT THE HECK and posted. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhengting and Xukun aren't exactly ecstatic about meeting again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this tomorrow but here we are

"Shit." 

The two boys stared at each other in utter shock. Never did either imagine they would come across each other again, for both grew equally certain that their first encounter would be their very last. And yet there they were in front of one another merely two weeks later. The undesired coincidence brought an ominous silence between the two. Any other reaction was captured in a web of daze. The dancer, for one, felt his heart pound against his head. The trepidation mauled and stung at his insides. Then there came the tension; stifling and thick as tar. Even Ziyi, standing obliviously, began to sense it. The mental shock value had become physical when Zhengting felt his body waver under the sight. The memories of the blonde drenched in dirt, blood and sweat swarmed his mind and he felt doubtful above it all. He began to consider the danger that could ensue from allowing himself and his friends to be at such close proximity to a man he believed to be unpredictable. Similarly, Xukun felt he would retch at any given moment. The brunette's face brought him back to the day he ran. One he had been trying to suppress. The anxiety grew vociferous beneath the quietude. But before either could speak, another voice sounded from behind. 

"Ziyi! You brought company I see!" Zeren grinned as he made his way towards the three. The raven haired male quickly turned his attention to the dancer, grateful for his appearance at the scene as he too had noticed the unidentifiable source of tension. And for some reason, he could not bring himself to act on it. 

"Oh- yeah. He's just…" Ziyi glanced back at Xukun before finishing, "a friend of mine."  
Zeren turned his attention to Xukun.  
"Hello 'friend of Ziyi's'! Gotta say I didn't know he had any friends aside from us."  
Ziyi shot Zeren a look and the smaller replied with a laugh. "Joking!" He evoked before he would be scolded- probably by Zhengting. Another dancer then joined the scene. He was petite in size but his voice and the manner in which he held himself emitted a pleasant confidence. 

"Hey! I'm Lin Chaoze, one of the dancers and choreographers here. It's nice to meet you…" he tilted his head, signaling to the other that he should finish in his stead.  
"Cai Xukun." The blonde answered. Chaoze rewarded him with a grateful smile.  
"It's nice to meet you, Xukun. Are you a dancer?"  
"W-well not professionally or anything I just...for fun sometimes. Yeah." He went on awkwardly, playing with the torn ends of his fingernails.  
"Kun and I used to dance with each other a bit back in the day." Ziyi added.  
"Kun? You guys have nicknames for one another I see. You must be close." Yanchen, who had been silently listening finally spoke out. He showed his pearly teeth.  
"We're good friends." Ziyi assured him.  
"Really? How come we've never heard of this 'Kun' until now!" Zeren teased playfully. Ziyi glanced at the blonde, who simply shrugged and nodded back towards him. The older let out a long exhale.  
"We...we lost contact for awhile, but we recently got back in touch." 

"I bet he wanted to start a separate dance group without us, right Ziyi?" Zeren threw his arm around the taller's shoulders and chuckled. Ziyi rolled his eyes but couldn't keep the grin off his face.  
"You know I'd never."  
"That's right. The man's stuck with us! Besides, Zhengting would hunt him down and drag him back by his mini ponytail if he ever tried to leave." Chaoze joined, amused at the conversation.  
"So Xukun, what kind of dance are you most interested in?" Yanchen wondered out loud.  
"I don't really-" Xukun started but was cut off by a sudden voice. 

"Ziyi, can I talk to you for a minute?" Zhengting asked bitterly. He had been silent the entire time. Listening. Racking his brain for what possible explanation the raven haired male could have for introducing the morose looking man he had nearly called the police on only several days prior. He remembered the baleful glares and threatening grip he had received that night. An electric shiver went down his spine. The room fell silent. Ziyi blinked.  
"I'm in the middle of introducing Kun to the-"  
"Now." The brunette demanded, a little louder than he intended it to sound. "It's urgent."  
"...sure."  
Zhengting glanced at the crowd of dancers around him.  
"Alone." He added before storming out of the studio. The door was purposely left ajar, and it beckoned Ziyi forward, it reminded him to follow. Ziyi turned to Xukun.  
"It's okay. Go." The other said immediately. The older nodded and followed Zhengting out the studio, gently shutting the door behind him. 

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" He asked with his eyebrows drawn together. Zhengting spun around, he was visibly upset- and annoyed at how worried Ziyi looked for him. He wondered if Ziyi had any idea about the kind of stuff Xukun did. The thought stabbed at his nerves but he remained still, taking a deep breath.  
"Ziyi. Who is he?" 

"I told you, he's an old friend that I recently rekindled with."  
There came a long pause. Zhengting averted his gaze, but the animosity he felt towards the blonde was still visible in his otherwise unwavering facial expression. The other began to catch on. So he spoke again.  
"You didn't seem opposed to me bringing someone along at first. Why the sudden change of heart?" The taller questioned.  
Zhengting let out an exasperated sigh.  
"I don't have a problem with newcomers joining the group. I just have a problem with _him_ in particular."  
Suddenly Ziyi's expression snapped from bemusement to anger, and Zhengting berated himself for not wording it differently. Perhaps he should have delivered it with less of a strike. 

"What's wrong with him?" Ziyi asked defensively, as if it were himself Zhengting were speaking about. The comment boiled his blood to a steam.  
"Ziyi, listen to me. I don't know if you know this guy as well as you think you do. He's bad news."  
"What would you know? You don't even _know him_." The man seethed. "You haven't even given him a chance and yet you jump to these- these ridiculous conclusions."  
Zhengting groaned and pulled at his hair. It seemed that his words were not getting through to the other.  
"Just trust me okay-"  
"No- Zhengting, no. You're being completely unreasonable." Ziyi stated. Zhengting frowned and opened his mouth but was beaten to it by the other once again.

"To be honest, I didn't expect this from you, Zhengting, of all people." The raven haired man looked let down above all else now. He shut his eyes and shook his head. "I'm disappointed."  
And as those words flew off his lips the man turned around and returned to the dance room. Zhengting stood. And when everything had processed within him, he fumed.  
"What the hell? I try to warn him and this is his response?!" He muttered to himself with a loud huff. His stubbornness told him to stay behind, or attempt to kick the other out. However, he too found himself back in the dance studio, and he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he had decided that he would converse with the blonde on his own, so that he wouldn't be faced with the backlash from the other dancers. They didn't know as much as he did, after all.

The practice lasted two and a half hours. To Zhengting's surprise, and annoyance, Xukun was a fairly talented dancer. The others made sure to give him constant praise throughout the time they spent together that evening. Zhengting said nothing. He hated it. In fact, he only spoke when correcting the blonde. The others had noticed his cold approach towards the newcomer, but remained silent about it as they could not come up with a reason for his unusual attitude. When the class came to its end, the brunette wasted no time heading over to Xukun.

"I need to tell you something." He said. Xukun stared wide eyed for a moment before nodding. He had only just begun following the other out of the room before he was stopped by a hand grabbing at his forearm. When he turned to look he came to find that it was Ziyi who had gotten ahold of him. However, despite clutching onto Xukun, the taller was looking, or rather, _glaring_ at Zhengting.  
"Where are you taking him?"  
"Relax, I just need a word with the guy." Zhengting replied. But he screamed internally. He could not _believe_ Ziyi was more worried about Xukun rather than him when Xukun was the dangerous one between the two of them. However, as much as he hated it, he relented from expressing this disbelief and instead clenched his fists. He waited.  
"It's fine, Ziyi." The blonde said, shaking his arm away. He stared into the other's eyes and through the lock insisted on leaving with Zhengting. Sowly, his arm was released from the grip. He left the room, but felt the others eyes on his back until he disappeared behind the door. 

Zhengting brought him to a separate hallway, then leaned his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Xukun simply studied his untied shoelace, unable to look at the other. He knew he could not avoid the conversation, which is why he had followed Zhengting to the corridor in the first place. In theory, he also wanted to know how much the brunette figured out about him, albeit being fearful of the result. Unable to take the wait, Xukun spoke first.

"So...what did you want to talk abou-"  
"Don't play dumb."  
Xukun's head snapped up, his mouth hanging slightly open. Zhengting continued.  
"Let's just cut to the chase, shall we? We've met before, you and I." He looked the other up and down, still laying recumbent against the wall. "You remember, don't you?"  
Xukun sighed and stared at his shoes once more. He could feel the other's gaze lingering over his face, searching for something. Desperately searching. It was agonizing for the blonde, to say the least.  
"Look, about that day- it's not what you think. I-I was just-"  
"Oh, I know exactly what's going on."  
Xukun's head shot up again. This time so rapidly he felt the back of his neck twitch in the aftermath. "You do?" He asked anxiously. Zhengting nodded. Xukun's heart sank to his toes. He felt his entire body begin to numb under the stress, save for his lungs which felt as though they were filled with gasoline. He choked on the memories. On the thought that someone else knew. And he feared that Zhengting's words would become the flame that destroys the fragile bubble Ziyi had built for him. That somehow, the chains that bound him had found themselves back in the streets he now lived by. That the healing Ziyi spoke of could only be a dream within a nightmare and- 

"You're a street thug, aren't you?" 

Xukun blinked. There was a long pause before he finally answered. "I'm sorry, a what?"  
"Street thug. You get into useless, easily avoidable fights which can lead to serious injury. I caught the result of one last time, right? Truly idiotic. And, what? Do you steal too? Do you carry a knife around with you? I know you're bad news, _'Kun'_ , and I don't know how you managed to convince Ziyi or fool the others, but I won't be as easily manipulated."  
Xukun only stayed silent after that. It was all too much to take in at first. Then, slowly, a smirk appeared over his lips. He almost wanted to laugh at the situation. The stress petered, and he played along instead, too entertained to hold himself back. 

"I guess you’ve caught me, Zhu Zhengting." He teased. "You're right about everything."  
"I knew it." The brunette narrowed his eyes, and Xukun started towards him. Every step was dreadfully sluggish and he took enjoyment in the fact that Zhengting stiffened once he came to notice the closing of distance between them. At the moment, he was too stubborn to back down, though. So he kept himself in his place. All the while Xukun continued the facade, too amused that Zhengting was _so_ far off the truth.  
"Yup, I'm just a lowly street thug who has nothing better to do than...what was it? Get into fights and rob people, places." His smirk never left him. "Right?" 

Zhengting shook his head in disapproval, but the blonde didn't fail to notice that his arms had dropped from their previously commanding position.  
"Right." The other agreed, though the dominance he meant to portray in his tone of voice had sizzled before leaving his lips. He sounded quiet and unsure.  
"You caught me, did you? Such a shame." Xukun fake pouted before slamming his hand against the wall, right next to the others head. Zhengting jumped at the sudden movement and cowered into himself. Xukun leaned in.  
"Too bad I've got everyone else wrapped around my pretty little finger, right sweetheart?"

And with that the blonde left. Walking away as though it was a normal occurrence. Internally he was still chuckling at it all. He had been so scared of Zhengting even knowing a sliver of his truth, but the man knew none. And the relief was overbearing. Zhengting, standing wide eyed, slid down to a sitting position with his fingers placed over his temples. He needed to let the others know. It would be difficult, he knew, especially after witnessing how Ziyi had handled it when he had brought it up earlier. But Zhengting was willing to try. 

*** 

Xukun laughed as he walked towards Ziyi's apartment with the older. The air was crisp and fresh. The stars illuminating and bright. Xukun's heart felt light.  
"What're you so happy about?" Ziyi asked.  
"Zhengting- I thought he knew- I thought he knew the truth about me- about us." He said between chuckles. "He thinks I'm a street thug, Ziyi. Oh thank god."  
The older frowned at the sudden notion.  
"Why would he think that?"  
"Well, I guess it makes sense considering the situation we were in when we first met, but I still find it hilarious. I think I'm gonna keep playing along, you know? To convince him. If he thinks he already knows me, he won't do any searching."  
"Don't tease him too much, Kun. He's a sensitive guy. And when the hell did you two meet before today?"  
"That night. About 45 minutes before I got to your doorstep."  
Ziyi stopped Xukun. "You never told me." He sounded offended.  
"I didn't really think I'd ever see him again. Besides, that interaction wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind after everything I went through that night."  
Ziyi nodded. He understood. And then it all made sense.  
"So that's why he was acting up today. You have to tell me all the details."  
And so Xukun did. They continued trudging down the path together, Ziyi had even bought them hot chocolate for the walk. They spoke of many things. Unimportant things. But it was the simplicity of it that brought warmth to the younger's chest. Their breaths and words left packaged in a puff of cold air. Their secrets intertwined themselves within it and left swallowed by the palette of magenta and navy sitting above them. For now, at least, Xukun felt traces of peace.

*** 

The man sharpened his knife. With every run of the weapon down the block of metal came the sound of power. Dominance. Sovereignty. He held a wicked smile and inhaled the thrill of his supremacy. His piercing eyes stabbed at the two men present before him. The glint in his stare held its place as the primary form of communication for several minutes. No words were spoken. There was only the menacingly austere sharpening of a weapon. And it was only when he had finally finished that he spoke. 

"One of my little pigs got away." He muttered while examining the knife. "I told him to stay. I provided him with food and shelter- with love and our precious knowledge only shared with a privileged few." His eyes moved to the men standing before him once again. "And yet… the bastard GOT AWAY!" He screamed as he stabbed the knife into the table. It sliced through the wooden surface without fail or hesitation. Neither of the two men standing aside jumped at this action. There came another silence. The man stood up and started towards one of the other men. This one the shorter of the two. He was good-looking; with a sharp jawline, dimpled smile and big eyes. He was trained in the art of manipulation, enough to proceed with his given task. The older man placed his fingers over the other's chin and moved his face so that they were staring into each other's eyes. The grip was strong and hostile. The boy felt the other's nails claw at his skin, but he did not wince or react in the slightest. He knew better.

At first glance he appeared to be colder than ice, but the man in power knew his fears and weaknesses all too well.

"You wouldn't leave like Xukun did, would you?" 

The follower's gaze did not leave his leader's eyes. He held the lock, but he emitted an aura of submission when faced with the older.  
"Never." He then replied. And there was no emotion with it. The man nodded and turned to the other, this one tall and slim.  
"New recruiter?"  
The boy stiffened under the man's gaze. He cackled at this.  
"I believe this new recruiter is proficient in tracking, correct?"  
The first one nodded.  
"Good." The man stepped back and returned to his desk.  
"I need you to find Cai Xukun and _bring him back_." He spoke in a low and menacing tone. "New recruit does the tracking, and you…" he turned his gaze to the handsome one again. "Make sure he stays in line. You've been here far too long to go against me, so I know you'll be loyal. I'm not so sure about the newbie, so be certain to keep him where I need him. I expect only my desired results from you two. Nothing less will be accepted. Understand?"  
"Understood." The boy answered robotically, and the man showed a sadistic grin.  
"Good. Then you two have best get on your way. And if you can, bring Wang Ziyi back too, I have a feeling that those two are together." 

He burned his eyes onto the handsome man.  
"Lin Yanjun."  
His gaze shifted to the taller.  
"Bi Wenjun." 

He paused for a moment. Then, he spoke one last time. 

"Do _not_ fail me, for the consequences may be...dire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for leaving some nice comments in the last chapter :") I appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziyi comes across something rather mysterious. Whilst looking for Xukun, Yanjun unexpectedly meets someone familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I have so many ideas for where this story could go but I haven't chosen an exact timeline yet so catch me stress writing woop woop.

Nearly a month had passed since Xukun's arrival at Ziyi's front door. To his own surprise, the blonde had continued with his participation in the dance classes, and even found himself enjoying them vehemently. Through the small, simple things he met with in his new life, Xukun began to taste the dripping sweetness of serenity. And despite still feeling disturbed by his past experiences, he himself began to take note of the overwhelming solace he sensed since fleeing. He hoped that he was sitting on the fringes of peace. Although he knew it was just the beginning, and that only time would lead him to healing, the boy looked forward to a future where the fear fell scarce. He worked and waited for it to starve itself within his own happiness, and cherished the man who inspired him. 

Caught within his musings, the boy smiled at himself absentmindedly. 

"That happy about ruining your hair?" The familiar voice sounded upon noticing said smile. Xukun's eyes met Ziyi's in the mirror before them.

Currently, they were in Ziyi's bathroom. And on a whim, they had decided on attempting to dye Xukun's roots. The black had started to spread like knocked ink along the top of his head and the honeyed locks dangled loosely beneath his chin. Xukun faced the washroom's mirror on an old stool as the other worked behind him.

"Oh my god Ziyi I swear if my hair starts falling out I'm blaming you."  
"Hey, you're the one who wanted to touch up your roots, not me. Dyeing your own hair is hard enough- let alone _bleaching_. You're lucky I agreed to help you."  
"Neither of us have the money to get it done at a salon! This was my only option." Xukun whined. 

It was true, they were short on cash. While Ziyi had worked as a personal trainer for awhile, he stopped once Xukun had arrived a month prior. Working independently rather than being tied to a company allowed for a flexible schedule, which the older preferred, but it didn't pay much. As such, once Xukun arrived and he had to start feeding for two, the man eked out of debt and began job hunting once more. Soon after, he received employment at a liquor store nearby. The man worked full time hours, and although the younger was still slightly uneasy about being left alone, he understood that it was mandatory for at least one of them to work. It didn't stop him from experiencing cycles of listless dejection, though. He found them tucked beneath his contentment, but praised himself nevertheless. In spite of keeping his vigilance, he found himself in a calmer condition than before. Xukun was proud of himself in some ways, but still castigated himself for differing reasons. One of these being his own inability to work. 

"If I got a job maybe I could get it done professionally." The younger muttered almost solemnly to himself. Ziyi shrugged.  
"If you're ready, I think it's a good idea."  
The other groaned, craning his neck all the way back so that he could lock eyes with the man standing above him. "It's not that simple, Ziyi. Unlike you I didn't even finish high school. Nobody would hire me."  
They stared at one another for a moment. Then, with an agile shift of his nimble fingers, Ziyi flicked the blonde's forehead. In response to the swift motion, Xukun obliged to the other's unexpressed wish and returned to his position with a low grumble. Once satisfied, the older replied.  
"That's not true. I know a lot of places that would. Now stop moving or I'll _actually_ ruin your hair." 

"Yes, sir." Xukun then teased with a playful smirk. He stared at the other through the mirror. Anticipating his reaction. The raven haired male rolled his eyes at the comment but showed a small grin nevertheless.  
"You've gotten too snarky since starting with Zhengting. Save it for later, why don't you."  
"I want a reaction from _you_ though." Xukun shrugged.  
"Do you want me to mess up your scalp or something?"  
"No, sir," was the response that led Ziyi to a sigh.

"You're too much sometimes. And by the way, you should just grow it out black and cut off the blonde. It's a lot easier to maintain that way."  
"No way man, I like this colour on me. Just because yours is a boring black doesn't mean- hey don't get it near my eye!"  
"Then stop moving!"  
"If I go blind I'll actually murder you." 

There was a pause before Ziyi spoke again. 

"My hair is pretty cool." He groused, and Xukun almost found his pouting to be adorable.  
"Undercut and mini ponytail?" The younger showed his teeth when he smiled. "Yeah, pretty neat I guess."  
He received a light tug of the hair.  
"It's cool, bro. Cool." Ziyi insisted.  
"Okay, fine." The other laughed. "It's cool. You're cool." 

The colour turned out to be a slightly different shade of blonde than the rest of his hair, but it didn't burn or fall off, and they considered that a success. 

"Not bad." Xukun said, and he genuinely meant it. He had readied himself for hair loss, after all. Ziyi ran his fingers through the other's hair a few times, grazing his nails over Xukun's scalp with a familiar tenderness. The excessive length of hair was quickly remarked.  
"So, want me to try trimming it too?" He offered. Xukun laughed, throwing his head back.  
"Honestly, go for it." 

Silent minutes of trimming went by, Xukun sat obediently. He watched his hair fall to the ground. It escaped him noiselessly, and he relished the tranquility of it. Somehow, it felt freeing. Ziyi had watched two tutorials online before giving it a go, and Xukun would be the first to admit that he wasn't doing a bad job. The blonde then moved his gaze to the older's facial expression. His brows were drawn together seriously as he put his entire focus on the other's hair. Xukun smiled when he thought of how earnestly the other worked.

"Don't cut my ear." He muttered when Ziyi had gotten close. But there came no reply. Ziyi had stopped cutting and was simply gaping at the back of Xukun's head. The blonde arched a brow.  
"Hello? Earth to Ziyi?"  
Without warning, the older placed his hand over Xukun's left ear and slowly ran his thumb over the back of his earlobe, adding a slight pressure. The suddenness of it caused Xukun to swat the other's hand away. On instinct. 

"What are you doing?" Xukun swiveled around and stood from his chair, now facing the other.  
"Xukun, do you have an earring?"  
"What? No. Why?"  
Ziyi moved himself to study the other's ear again. Xukun attempted to stop him, but was halted in this action when Ziyi caught his wrist.  
"Just a second," he uttered, and the other's hand was lowered. He began to run his nail down the same spot and there came a faint scratching sound.  
"There's this tiny black dot on the back of your earlobe…" he turned the other around so that they could face one another. "...but not at the front."  
Xukun sighed. "Is that it?" He asked, his previous irritation ebbing away. "It's probably dirt or something. Now are you gonna finish my hair or do you plan on leaving it to this half finished monstrosity?" 

Ziyi laughed gently. "Sit down, I'll finish." 

He couldn't help but glance back at the mysterious black piece, though. He wondered what it was, and although he didn't want to admit it, he was skeptical of the answer. Despite this, the man silenced his speeding thoughts, refusing to add unnecessary worry to Xukun. Perhaps he too was in a state of denial. So he blinded himself. And selfishly convinced himself that there would be no consequences. 

*** 

"Okay, so, I need you to help me come up with a way to convince the others that Xukun is a bad influence on our team."  
Zhangjing had barely sat down across from Zhengting in the cafe when the words left the younger's lips. Immediately, the older stood.  
"I'm leaving." He said briskly.  
"Wait- Zhangjing! I'm serious!"  
The smaller released a deliberate and extended sigh. He sat back down.  
"Zhengting-"  
"You don't believe me?"  
"It's not that I don't believe you…" Zhangjing started. He had met Xukun the week after the blonde's first appearance at the studio. Zhengting had _begged_ him to come to the studio and meet this 'street thug'. Upon learning of Zhenting's experiences with the newcomer, the smaller had been especially wary when meeting Xukun. However, opposite to what he had been told by Zhengting, Xukun seemed friendly enough, albeit being shy at first. There was an obvious discrepancy between Zhengting's perception and his own.

"It's because you weren't there a couple classes ago! This is why you should come every week! You miss out on the important things!" Zhengting groaned into the table as he banged his forehead against it, causing the condiments to shake under his influence. Zhangjing stowed them back in the basket as he replied.  
"Zhengting, I love you, and I enjoy it sometimes, but watching you guys dance for three hours straight is not always my favourite thing to do on a Sunday night." 

Zhengting immediately raised his head and stuck his tongue out at the other, his forehead tinted a soft pink from the aftermath.  
"You should have _seen_ the look in his eyes!" The man whined to his best friend.  
"Oh come on, you're overreacting." Zhangjing rebuked. "He doesn't seem that bad."  
"Yeah but, again, this happened the class before the one you showed up at. He's just putting on a front!"  
"Are you _sure_ he's the one you saw that night. It was dark and late and-"  
"Yes I'm sure! I don't see people covered in blood everyday you know." Zhengting quieted down upon finishing the statement, glancing around himself to make sure nobody had heard. He held himself, the fairly recent unfolding of events had exhausted him to an almost lethargic level. 

Zhangjing bit his lip. "Alright, calm down. I just don't think Ziyi is the type of person to bring someone like what you described into our lives, that's all."  
"Me neither but…" Zhengting sighed "I don't know, we have another class in two days and it's stressing me out. Like, my stress levels have literally maxed out." He suddenly peeked up at Zhangjing, giving the older his best puppy eyes and pout. The other smiled.  
"Yes, I'll be there."  
"You're the best!"  
"And instead of coming up with some elaborate plan to give Xukun a bad image, why don't you _try_ talking to Ziyi about it again? Just a thought."  
"Boo. He doesn't listen to me."  
"You'll just be under more stress if you don't resolve this." Zhangjing sighed and took a sip of his coffee before moving on. "Speaking of stress, have you found a new roommate yet? It's been weeks since Hong Eunki moved out." 

Zhengting groaned obnoxiously loud. He did not appreciate being reminded of yet another stresser when he was already focused on one.  
"No, I haven't. And I can't afford to pay on my own any longer. And because I've been so focused on this my grades have been dropping too. You and I both know that my parents would kill me if they found out I'm failing university." His head plopped back onto the wooden surface. "It feels like it all happened too fast and honestly, I'm drowning here."  
There came a long silence. So long that the older began making small braids in the other's hair out of sheer boredom. He waited for the younger to conclude his rant. A few minutes later, Zhengting glanced back up at him. He asked a question he had already asked a multitude of times, but prayed for a change in answer.

"Can you _please_ move in with me Zhangjing."  
"And ditch Chaoze? No can do. I'm no traitor."  
"You're boring. It would be so fun with me."  
"You've been friends with Zeren since middle school right? Why don't you move in with him and Yanchen?"  
"And watch them flirt with each other 24/7?" Zhengting made a fake gagging noise. "I'll pass, thanks."  
"Well, you can always join Chaoze and I, we have a pull out couch that you can use."  
Zhengting sighed.  
"I appreciate it, and I might just have to if I don't find a new roommate soon." 

Zhangjing leaned forward to pat his shoulder encouragingly.  
"Cheer up Zhengting, I'm sure it'll all work out."  
The other gave a half-spirited smile.  
"Yeah, I hope so." 

***

The laptop's screen was bright in the otherwise dark lit room, casting an ominous shadow over the holder's face. The red hues sliced themselves through the darkness. 

"So, still there?" 

Wenjun looked from the screen to Yanjun, who had just spoken. He was sitting on the bed across from the other with his arms crossed over his chest. They had been staying at a cheap hotel for the past several days, remaining underground about their arrival. They spent their days watching and learning of their target's life. Whilst analyzing patterns, they began planning their first move.  
Wenjun nodded.  
"He spends most of his time in this apartment complex. Safe to say it's where he's living."  
"Good. Now we just have to figure out a way to approach him without causing too much of a disturbance."  
Wenjun hummed in response, though he looked desolate. Yanjun sighed and went to sit next to the other.

"You look depressed. What's up?"  
Wenjun turned to the man sitting on his left. He met the gaze with brooding eyes.  
"I just feel a bit...confused. When I first joined Mask nearly half a year ago our leader made it seem like a utopia. Like a family. He appeared when my life felt worthless, and introduced me to a new world. I felt rescued by him. But when he spoke to us the other day...and you know, making me chip Xukun. I-I don't know."  
"It's because we _are_ a family that he's doing this." Yanjun cut in. Wenjun's mouth fell agape.  
"He is leading us to paradise, Wenjun. With his own doctrine and religion, he knows the truth. He wants what's best for us, and like he said, only a select few receive this kind of blessing. You should count yourself lucky. Putting a tracker on Xukun is what allowed us to find him again. He fell on the wrong path and his mind got stained, that's why he left. Ziyi influenced him too much." 

"But-" 

Yanjun suddenly placed his hands on the taller's shoulders. 

"Family sticks together, right? This is why we need Xukun back. Our leader just wants him to reach paradise like the rest of us, and his form of religion will lead us there. Don't you want Xukun to reach that place too?"  
"Well- yes...I do. Of course." Wenjun agreed. Yanjun gave him a dimpled smile.  
"Then let's get him back." 

_It's easy to justify vile actions when one desperately wants to believe they are righteous. It is the reason we wear a mask._

There were a few more minutes of silence before Wenjun spoke. 

"He's leaving his apartment!"  
Yanjun looked at the screen as well.  
"Same time as last Sunday, huh? Maybe this is part of his schedule."  
They followed the glowing dot on the screen to a building.  
"The same building."  
"Alright, let's check it out." Yanjun said as he stood from the bed. He pulled a coal tinted coat over his shoulders, cloaking himself in a veil of darkness.  
"Now? What if he sees us?"  
"Last time he was inside for almost three hours, we'll be fine. Now get up."  
Wenjun immediately shut his laptop and slipped out of the door after Yanjun. 

They made their way to Xukun.

*** 

The dance class rolled around once again. Zhengting, Chaoze and Zhangjing had gotten there first. Followed by Ziyi and Xukun a few minutes later. 

"Hey Xukun! Nice seeing you here again." Chaoze greeted with a smile.  
"Thanks, Chaoze. Hey Zhangjing!" He turned to the brunette. "Zhengting." He nodded curtly.  
"Have you made a decision on whether or not you're going to join permanently yet?" Zhangjing quiered.  
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna keep coming." Xukun smiled. Chaoze beamed at him.  
"Great! I'll add you to the official post."  
"Thank you." Xukun said, leaving a hint of delight within the words. He began to walk towards the center of the room to stretch, and when he passed Zhengting, he smirked. 

"Looks like I'm staying for awhile." 

Zhengting immediately spun to Zhangjing.  
_'Did you see that!?'_ He mouthed to the other who just smiled and shook his head. Zhengting groaned and followed the others to prepare. 

Ten minutes later, Zeren and Yanchen entered the room.  
"Sorry we're late. Nice to see Xukun here again." Yanchen said.  
"Please tell me he's joining permanently." Zeren whined once he joined the group.  
"He said he would!" Chaoze ejaculated before anyone else could, and both Yanchen and Zeren cheered in excitement.  
"Have you added him to the list?"  
"Not yet. I'll do it now since you two still have to stretch." Chaoze said as he stood and left for the door. 

Ziyi nudged the blonde, smiling widely at him. He knew that the decision came with a step towards building a new lifestyle for himself, and the older couldn't be more ecstatic. He finally murmured the few words that had been dancing beneath his lips for awhile. 

"I'm proud of you." 

***

Yanjun and Wenjun entered the building. They ambled around the lobby; looking for things, reading the signs. The secretary had asked what they were there for at the beginning, sending an inkling of suspicion through the gleam in her eyes. But with a flash of his dimpled smile and a couple words oozing of artificial sweetness, Yanjun had managed to make her blush profusely and grant them access to look around. The men searched for a sign that would let them know what Xukun did in the building every Sunday. It seemed that a lot of groups and clubs had meetings in some of the rooms during the weekends, as many were stapled to a wall, holding a list of names underneath. However, they could not spot their target's name on any list. Just as Yanjun let go of a huff, Wenjun spoke. 

Thanks to the taller's finding, their disappointment lasted no longer than a couple seconds, for they stumbled across another name.

"Yanjun, look." Wenjun beckoned the other towards him. And low and behold, under a dance club they saw a familiar name. Although he wasn't their priority, they both gawked at the coincidence.  
"Wang Ziyi…" Wenjun whispered as he stared at his name on the list. But Yanjun was staring at another name.  
"Yanjun, Ziyi _and_ Xukun are here, just like he said they'd be."  
But the older didn't reply.  
"Yanjun…?"  
"I know that name." Was what he had finally said.  
"Yeah...that's-that's the point. Wang Ziyi is-"  
"Not that one." Yanjun pointed to another name on the list.  
"Lin Chaoze…" Wenjun read aloud before he turned to the other. "Who is he?"  
"He's-" 

But before Yanjun could reply, another voice sounded next to them.  
"Excuse me, who-"  
When they had turned to face the speaker, he had stopped mid sentence. Yanjun's eyes went wide.  
"Oh my god…" Chaoze started. "Lin Yanjun?!"  
"Chaoze…" the taller muttered but was suddenly pulled in for an embrace. All he could do was stare at Wenjun as the smaller wrapped his arms around him. After several seconds passed, he pulled away.  
"It's been so long!" Chaoze exclaimed.  
"Y-yeah…I guess it has." Yanjun chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.  
"Yanjun?" Wenjun asked with a confused tilt of the head. Yanjun then turned to the taller, his expression still one of utter bemusement. When he finally found the words, he spoke.

"Uh- um, Wenjun. This is my childhood friend, Lin Chaoze."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: like Xukun, I also dyed my hair blonde recently and I was in such a state of shock at first that I cried for two hours LMAO. It's so different but I'm slowly getting used to it :') my friend gave me purple shampoo today to help with some brassiness so hopefully it works well! Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Also! Part of what inspired me to write this was the world religions class I took back in 11th grade where I learned about cults. I based Yanjun and Wenjun's conversation off what cults brainwash people to believe they are. 
> 
> AND YES EUNKI MADE A CAMEO IN MY FIC


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanjun stumbles across an old friend. As taken aback as he is at first, he quickly realizes he may be able to use it to his advantage. Meanwhile, Zhengting is suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: This chapter briefly mentions the physical abuse of a child/teen.

_He was always followed by murmurs. Some curious, some malicious, some jealous and some infatuated. In the end, it didn't matter which. They were present either way. The derisive whispers leered over him like shadows, caging the boy in darkness. He lived within it. And beneath the skin, he withered away. The mutters slipped from between others' lips through the brewing of jealousy and awe. Their boiling words came from an unnatural and superfluous build up of envy. It was a putrid stench, and it made him sick to his stomach. However, as disgusted as he was, Yanjun had quickly gotten used to hearing them. It was only fitting for him to be the one to spark others' interests after all. For who wasn't completely fascinated by Lin Yanjun? He was striking, above all else. The intimidating appearance he held came with an air of curiosity, for the boy was idolized in his perfection._

_For one, he was insanely good looking. His charm came without trying. Sharp jawline, blazing eyes, dimpled smile and perfect hair; the boy was textbook beautiful. In addition to his naturally appealing features, the boy was incredibly intelligent, and always received the highest grades. He was captain of the school's notoriously talented basketball team and arguably the star player. In his free time, he did hours upon hours of volunteer work. And to top it all off, his father was the principal of the overly pristine high school he attended. The boy was, in every shape and form, a model student. Lin Yanjun was everything- had everything. The world was in his hands. And people either wanted him, or yearned to be him. There was no in between. Lin Yanjun was nothing short of perfection._

_Or so people thought._

_When he got home, the boy was met with painful screams. His uniform hid the maroon bruises and silenced the whip slashes that had dented themselves into his skin like a work of malevolent art. His father's belt became his teacher. The release of blood became his punishment. If he took one step out of line, he was met with a most nefarious end._

_Emotion was weakness. This was one of his first lessons, and one he had internalized rather successfully._

_He lived through it._

_So the boy was emotionless, at least to his classmates. The gentle smiles and pitiful frowns were always plastered over his face like a mask. It was sewn onto him. And with every temporary display of emotion, the fictitious needle seemed to impale him once again. A hidden reality would show that he revealed no emotion. A stoic expression became a chronic habit, for it was the easiest to portray. He felt, at times, that being apathetic was the closest way he'd come to rest. It aided him in the forgetting of people, who all fell into two categories:_

_1\. People who used him  
2\. People who envied him_

_For a long time, he believed he would traipse through life completely alone. So when he had made one true friend, it was miracle enough._

_Lin Chaoze._

_The smaller came into his life in a bizarre manner, but he had managed to touch Yanjun in a way that no other could. It came in a challenge._

_"Okay, Mr. Perfect. How good are you at dancing?"_

_It was a question, but it was released from his tongue like a dare. Yanjun had refused to allow himself to fall into provocation, and accepted the challenge immediately. He shrugged at the fact that his image was threatened by some kid he had never met before. However, to his own surprise, he was beaten. Despite being above average in the art, he could not deny his loss. The other gave him a smile. It wasn't a wanting smile, but a welcoming one. Yanjun choked on his image._

_"I guess you're human after all." Came the voice, and the smaller boy held out his hand for Yanjun to take. In a state of astonishment, the boy took it, and the action led him to a sharp and unexpected turn in his life. It seemed that placing a hand in another's led him to all his major decisions in life, as it happened again only a year later. Perhaps he fell for the gesture because of the perceived trust that came with it. One that he had been deprived of for too long to ignore. And so, the perfect boy accepted a single friend. He was content with it, that is, until Chaoze introduced him to someone else that very year._

_"Yanjun, this is my step brother…"_

***

The memories shot through the man's mind at once, causing a rush of panic that left him speechless. He stared at the smaller man before him, his jaw hanging low. The information he had garnered regarding Xukun should not have entailed pieces of his own past. Yanjun felt his blood go cold.  
"I haven't seen you since, what, sophomore year of high school?" Chaoze sounded.  
The other blinked. As taken aback as he was, Yanjun knew how to regain his composure in an impressively short period of time. He couldn't let himself fall. The man was used to keeping his emotions unnoticed, after all. It was something he had been trained in for several years. He'd been taught to control and govern his own emotions from a young age. And he had mastered the art of it, if one could call it as such. 

Besides, he didn't want to let himself slip.  
Not again. Not like the last time.

"Yes, I guess it has been that long." The man feigned laughter. "This is my friend from university, Bi Wenjun" Yanjun lied with ease, gesturing at the other. Wenjun greeted the smaller awkwardly; only offering a small bow paired with the beginnings of a wave before he quickly retreated his hand. He too was in a state of shock and confusion.  
"What a pleasure!" The smaller replied with a grin, but just as he was about to delve into a conversation with the taller, Yanjun interrupted. 

"Wenjun," he started, "I think I parked the car improperly, mind fixing it for me?"  
The taller stared at him for a minute. They didn't bring the car. In an attempt to come unnoticed they had bussed and walked to the building. Wenjun gave the other a tilt of the head. However, as puzzled as he was at first, one thing he could see without a doubt in mind was the unexpressed words in the older's gaze. They told him he had to leave. 

So he played along in Yanjun's game.

"Right." He turned from Yanjun to Chaoze. "Nice meeting you." He stated curtly, and with that the lanky man vanished from the scene. There came a moment of silence once the door had shut behind him.  
It was broken by gentle laughter.  
"How did you park your car?" Chaoze asked with a small chuckle. Yanjun knew why the smaller laughed. A memory of his first time driving a vehicle played within his own mind. He was with Chaoze and the other's step brother. The taller's atrocious parking skills had been awarded with much teasing. But that was then, and they were in the now. Yanjun rolled his tongue inside his mouth, encountering a metallic taste. He caged it, and pretended once again.

"Oh, you know, just- I think it's on the curb a bit. Never been good at parking I guess. Anyway," he prepared himself, suppressing every memory with all his might. As much as it triggered a past he did not have any intention in remembering, he knew that having Chaoze there was a miracle in of itself. 

Because it gave him a valid reason to be present in the same environment as Xukun and Ziyi without causing too much of a controversy. 

The truth was, as painful as it was to be reunited with fragments of his childhood, it gave the man incentive. And he was stuck between having the need to cry and rejoice. So he did neither. All he did know was that he needed to keep Chaoze close to himself and blinded from his true intentions, as well as the frank reality of it all. That his old friend would only be a pawn to be used in a larger mission. Yanjun cleared his throat before diving into the facade.

"Anyway, I have to get going now, but we should catch up sometime. Over coffee maybe?" He showed his dimpled smile. Naturally, Chaoze returned it. Somehow it felt like a stab in the other's stomach.  
"Yeah! There's one just across the street from here if you want to meet up sometime this week."  
"Does next friday work?" Yanjun asked, internally praising himself for sounding so genuine despite the harsh reality of the situation.  
"Sure does!"  
"Alright, see you there around 4:00?"  
"Perfect!" The smaller sighed in delight. "I can hardly believe this coincidence. I missed you a lot when you left, you know." 

_'Fuck.'_

And yet again, the man feigned a smile.  
"Same here." He forced through gritted teeth.  
"Well, I've got to go, see you next friday" 

The man turned and left.  
He was incensed.

***

Yanjun slammed his fist into the wall the second they reached the hotel room. He had remained eerily quiet after returning to Wenjun, and the younger didn't dare question it. As such, he could only watch fearfully as the other man continuously fisted at the wall. His knuckles felt like they were on fire, but the pain stabilized him. As it always had. As it always would. 

"Fuck- fuck- fuck!" He repeated without end.  
"Yanjun, the neighbouring room will call security on us."  
"Shut up!" The older hissed. And Wenjun faltered. Yanjun let loose of a long breath that left him like the ashy clouds of steam after a fire. As riled up as he was, he knew the other was right. The older ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to get a grip. And fast. He took another deep breath. He focused on the pain.

"Sorry." He finally muttered, and shuffled towards his bed, haggard and weary. He fell on his back, slinging his arm over his eyes. The tears didn't come- wouldn't come. He had swallowed them long ago, and frozen them within. Every time something caused a disturbance in him, the man had someone to force him into place. Whether it be his joke of a father or the leader of his rescuing. But now, he felt alone.  
Well, almost.  
With caution, Wenjun followed him, placing himself in a seated position at the foot of the mattress. He accompanied Yanjun everywhere he went. And the older selfishly wallowed himself in the pleasure of being needed by him.  
"Yanjun…" The other started.  
"It's fine." Came the answer.  
"No. I…" Wenjun looked at his lap. "I can sympathize with you. I also- I also have a past that's worth forgetting." 

Yanjun removed his arm from his face. He looked at the other, who was still fixated on his thighs.  
"Don't we all?" Yanjun replied bitterly. "That's the whole reason we escaped." 

"The reason we joined Mask." 

_But was it really an escape? Or was it a cage masked as freedom? When people are at their weakest, they remove their guards at any offer of a hand. They mask and impair themselves from rationalism. They want to believe in being saved. They want a promised happiness._

_They do not comprehend that they are the targets and victims of an end that is even more tragic._

***

Zhengting threw himself onto the mattress. He had just returned from work and was nothing short of exhausted. He had asked for extra shifts and worked nearly every day for prolonged hours. It seemed that between school, hobbies and work there came no time to relax. But as tired as the man was, he knew that in his current state there was no time for breaks or rest. Zhengting pushed himself into an upright position and took out his phone. He bit on the end of his lip for a moment, considering his action. Finally, with the release of a long breath, he dialed the number. 

It rang three times. 

"Hello, Zhengting!" Came the voice on the other end. He shut his eyes tight.  
"Hey, mom!" He forced out in an excited tone.  
"Haven't had a call from you in awhile. How are you baby?"  
He hesitated before answering.  
"Um, good! I've been good."  
"School going well? How about that dance group of yours?"  
"Everything is going great! Really- really good." He placed his other hand over his face and bent forward. He was afraid of the question prodding at this lips.  
"That's a relief. I've just been trying this new recipe for a pear cake! You know, I thought since we have that pear tree grown in our backyard we might as well use them as much as we can right? I've been collecting the ingredients but goodness are they expensive! I'm sure the cake will be worth it, though. I think I-"  
"Mom-" Zhengting interrupted.  
"Yes dear?"  
"That sounds delicious and all but…" he took a deep breath. "I'm calling about grandma." 

There was a pause on the other end. Zhengting's heart dropped. When his talkative mother silenced herself so suddenly, he felt the chills crawl down his spine so rapidly he flinched. 

"...she's doing alright."  
"Can you be honest with me?"  
"...honey, don't worry about it, okay?"  
Zhengting snapped. Maybe because the emotional and physical exhaustion had finally made its way to his throat. And in a sudden high from the fatigue and irritation, he felt his mind going a mile a minute.  
"I can't help but worry about it!" The man stood from his bed in a single motion. His body stiff and eyes shaking. There was another pause on the other end and _god_ how he hated it.  
"Well, you know, the medication- the bills. It's all adding up." 

Zhengting pressed his eyes together once more. It gave him the false idea that he would be hidden from the grim reality of it all. That his next statement wouldn't drag him lower than he already was. That the strain he felt wouldn't worsen. With a spark of gallantry he said it. 

"I can send you money." 

"No, you don't have to do that. Please, Ting, you already have to pay your entire tuition, books and rent."  
"I'm working more hours recently-"  
"Even more!? Stop! You'll overwork yourself!"  
"I feel fine!" The boy insisted. But the purple bowls below his reddened eye sockets said otherwise. "I have second hand books from an upperclassman, you know I get discounts. The tuition isn't a problem with my scholarship-" 

_'That I might lose if my grades continue like this'_ he thought to himself, but would never express it aloud. 

"And you know I room with Hong Eunki! The place is cheap anyway and we split the price. It's nothing, mom, really." 

The lies fell from his lips without end. But he justified them in the thought that he was acting heroically for his family. Because how could he possibly tell his mother that he was nearly failing from the stress? That Eunki had moved back to South Korea over a month ago. That these stressors acted like bricks that pulled him down to the extent that he constantly felt himself drowning beneath a brighter sky. 

He simply couldn't. 

There was another pause on the other end, this one longer, lasting over a minute. It was followed by a guilty sigh. 

"Are you sure?"  
"I get my next paycheck tomorrow, tell grandma I love her." 

The call ended in sweet nothings and goodbyes. And when the room fell silent again, Zhengting mulled over his mother's words, as well as his own insincerity. And he cried. And he cried. 

And he cried some more. 

Until the enervation forced him to sleep.

***

Friday came sooner than Yanjun wished it would. He had explained his new plan to catch Xukun through Chaoze to his accomplice before leaving. Wenjun, of course, agreed to stay behind. If the plan failed or didn't go as smoothly as they hoped, they would have somebody who hadn't gotten personally involved yet. And so, with a deep breath and a blank mind, Yanjun entered the cafe. Chaoze was already inside, and waved the other towards himself. Instantaneously, a practiced smile plastered itself over Yanjun's lips. He moved to the other.

It started with a greeting and some small talk.  
_'Easy enough'_ Yanjun thought. But the challenge was only just beginning, for once they received their drinks, Chaoze began speaking of old memories they shared. Yanjun clenched his jaw.

"Remember how we used to go to these kinds of cafe's after school? Every friday we'd treat ourselves. Just like today." Chaoze reminisced with a nostalgic smile. "Well, you wouldn't. You never ordered a thing, not even when I offered to pay. I almost felt bad, but I knew your dad had a thing about being excessively healthy. Never did understand why he was so strict with you, I mean, you were already near perfection." 

Yanjun wanted to reply, but it came out as a sandy croak instead. He quickly cleared his throat. 

"Well, not quite…" he finally muttered with a dry chuckle.  
"Maybe I should have emphasized the word 'near'" the other replied as he sipped his drink. Yanjun felt himself loosen from his tensity at the word. It was why he had become friends with the smaller to begin with. 

"You're still dancing I see?" He started when he regained his composure.  
"Of course! Dancing will always be a part of me, you shouldn't be so surprised. In fact, I'm the one who was shocked at _your_ appearance! To be honest, I never expected to bump into you after all these years." He bit his lip before speaking again. "It's a nice surprise, though."

"Glad to hear it."  
"So what are you doing here?" Chaoze rested his chin on his palm as he studied the other.  
"Actually, I just moved here for a workshop I'm doing. I shouldn't be staying too long." As usual, Yanjun lied with ease.  
"Oh! Where are you staying?"  
"Hotel right now."  
"Isn't it expensive?"  
"Very…" Yanjun started, and suddenly, an idea popped into his mind.  
"Actually," the taller continued, "I was supposed to stay with a friend, but he had to go home last minute for a family emergency. I'm a bit stuck." He simulated a tired sigh. "I don't know what I should do now. Drop the workshop? Go into debt? Both sound bad." He shook his head.  
"Jeez, that sucks." Chaoze frowned. "I mean, I know we just reconnected...but if you're in a tough spot you can always room with me." 

It was exactly what Yanjun wanted to hear. 

"Really?" He pretended to be shocked. Internally, he anticipated the answer, and hid a knowing smirk underneath his tongue. "You don't have to...I mean, if it'll burden you..."  
"Nonsense! Your always welcome at my house, remember?" 

_You're always welcome at my house._

It was something the boy had told Yanjun on many occasions when they were young. The taller never allowed anybody in his home. It was a mystery to all. Chaoze never pestered him about it, and instead generously offered his own for any get together. Yanjun felt a nostalgic warmth in his chest, but upon noticing, tried to drown it under the ice that had been so carefully built.

He couldn't let the frozen tears melt, after all.

He had to remember his goal. Rooming with Chaoze would allow him to get closer to his old friend and eventually, lead him to the dance team as well. 

"You know what, I think I'll take your offer. It must be fate that we've met again. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it." Yanjun said.

"It's really no problem! When do you plan on moving in?" 

"I know this is soon, but how's tomorrow?"

***

Yanjun stood in front of the door. The man gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts and plan his actions, his words and the steps he would take to become the old friend Chaoze wanted him to be. Finally, he raised a fist to the door. And as much as he abetted himself beforehand, he couldn't help the hesitation that arose before knocking. 

There was silence at first. Then, he heard faint shuffling that got louder as the man behind the wood came closer. The door opened, and as expected, standing before him was Chaoze. 

"Hey! Glad you could make it!"  
"Same! Sorry I got here pretty late, I was packing some things."  
Yanjun entered the compact apartment gingerly. It was not a spacious place, but he had already predicted that it wouldn't be.  
"No problem. I've already set up where you'll be sleeping." Chaoze said as he guided the other towards a pull out couch in the middle of the main room.  
"Thank you." 

Just as he dropped his duffle bag next to the bed, he heard a sound from behind another door. It was the running water of a shower. His head shot up.  
"Is someone else here?" The man asked.  
"Yeah, it's just- oh crap." Chaoze spun to face Yanjun. "I forgot to mention that I have a roommate, didn't I? I hope you don't mind."  
"You did. But it's alright, I should have known it would be too difficult to live alone as a student. Did you tell him I was coming?" Yanjun answered nonchalantly. He wished he had known beforehand, but he concluded that it wouldn't really make much of a difference in terms of his plans anyway. 

"Yeah, he was very shocked."  
"Too last minute not to be I guess."  
"No, he was shocked at the mention of your name, I mean." 

Yanjun furrowed his brows. He suddenly felt a twist in his heart.  
"Why?"  
"You two know each other. Yanjun, my roommate is-" 

But before the smaller could finish, the washroom door opened. And out came a freshly showered Zhangjing. Yanjun's eyes fell at the sight. 

So did his heart. 

***

_"Yanjun, this is my step brother…_

_You Zhangjing._

_I hope you two get along!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I gave a quick description of Yanjun's backstory at the beginning of this chapter but I have a full version in mind. I was going to put it later on in the story but I'm thinking of making Yanjun's entire backstory the next chapter? I know that this chapter was already 90% Yanjun but here we are. 
> 
> Anyway this chapter is a bit longer than my other ones and I'm not entirely happy with it yet (I'd still like to edit it more). But I really want to keep posting once a week and my last update was a week ago, and I oop- so I'm sorry if the writing is crappy. Also I'm on vacation right now so it's hard for me to write but your girl is trying.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanjun's backstory part 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains description of physical abuse.

_Perfect. Beautiful. Intelligent. Ambitious. Refined. Striking._

_These were the words Yanjun was labeled with under the mask of daylight. He smiled upon hearing them, but the smile he cracked was far from raw and lacked any embodiment of sincerity. It was an imitation of the one he had practiced hundreds upon hundreds of times in the mirror. He practiced until people believed it to be true. He didn't have the impish intention of hoaxing others, but the boy had no choice. He couldn't believe in worthless compliments, for when night captured him, he heard the booming ring of words that opposed the others._

_Useless. Failure. Disappointment. Weak. Unimportant. Not enough._

_They came from the throat of a man he called father. Every night it followed him like a ritual. And it shook him to the bone. The sound of a belt sliding against the wooden tiles reminded him of a venomous snake approaching its next victim. It was followed by cries. There sometimes came the lighting of a match and the unbearably slow addition of pressure against bare skin. It was followed by cries. Nails, fists and the ripping of human flesh. It was all followed by cries._

_Until he had run out. Temporarily._

_Because they'd always find a way to return._

_He'd always find a way to make them come back._

_***_

_"Meet my step-brother...You Zhangjing. I hope you two get along!"_

_Chaoze sounded, the words leaving his lips with an inkling of elation._

_Yanjun studied the boy before him. Like Chaoze, he was short in height. The curly ringlets of hair that fell over his forehead took on the colour of chestnuts. His cheeks and the tip of his rounded nose came faintly tinted in the shade of rose petals. And when the boy smiled, his two front teeth overtook the majority of his mouth. Yanjun found humour in the fact that he greatly resembled a small rabbit._

_"Nice to meet you, I'm Lin Yanjun." He replied with the readied smile he always kept beneath his lips._  
"Zhangjing just moved in with me so he'll be transferring to our high school as well. I hope you'll help me in getting him comfortable in his settlement here." Chaoze added.  
"Of course!" Yanjun ejaculated, keeping the dimpled smile although his jaw began to feel strained from how often he pulled it out and stamped it on.  
"Great! He doesn't know anybody here so it'd be awesome if you two got along."  
"No problem, I love meeting new people." The taller fibbed with small, ingenuine laughter. And all he could think about was wrapping up the meeting and getting home. To return to his impassive appearance.  
"I really appreciate it." Came Zhangjing's reply after remaining more or less silent until then. 

_"Good! Then I'll order us the ice-cream while you two sit down and get to know each other a little bit." Chaoze offered, clasping his hands together in delight. "Chocolate for Zhangjing and…"  
"I'm good." Yanjun said with a small shake of the head. As usual, he ordered nothing. His father would highly disapprove of any diet that differed the one he had implemented on his son, after all. Chaoze sighed, but in the months he had gotten to know Yanjun, he knew there was no helping it. He decided to move on without pestering the other as he had done countless of times in their first few weeks of friendship. _

_And thus, before they knew it, the other two were left alone on a bench just several feet outside the shop. For the first few moments a tension had joined the two. In the midst of their first meeting, it seemed only natural. Yanjun was used to it. On numerous occasions people would gather the courage to walk up to him and attempt small talk. It was awkward, but he was adept at pretending it wasn't. The boy sighed internally. Another meeting, more useless blathering. In an attempt to get it over with, he decided he would be the one to start speaking. But just as Yanjun opened his mouth to break the quietude, the other beat him to it._

_"What kind of ice-cream do you like?"_

_The taller blinked._  
"Uh- I don't eat ice-cream."  
"Why not?"  
"I don't eat unhealthy food."  
The answer was followed by another falsified laugh. Doing it usually lightened the conversation, and stopped people from questioning any further. The deep dimples and warm laughter invited people to regard him with thoughtless trust. It was something he pulled when placed in new situations to keep control. Internally, Yanjun couldn't deny how taken aback he was by Zhangjing's inquiry. The questions he usually received were simple, fabricated from the cheapest plastic as the ones who asked were concerned only with his outer shell. Despite this, he quickly recovered upon seeing the rabbit appearing boy in a state of ingenuous laughter. Something about the innocence of the scene made Yanjun feel warm. So he said nothing more. 

_"Sorry, it's just so different from me. I love food, all of it. Especially desserts." And with that the smaller dove into the topic of his love for food. Yanjun felt comfortable like this. He was used to others simply speaking of themselves, it was what people usually liked to do anyway. However, it seemed that Zhangjing wouldn't let the other off so easily. As soon as Yanjun thought himself to be in control again, he was put on the spot by the other once more._

_"What do you like to do for fun?" Zhangjing asked him. It was a fairly easy one to answer, as Yanjun received it often.  
"I play basketball and do volunteer work." He answered robotically. It was a question many of his father's friends asked him out of sheer courtesy when really, they didn't care about what brought him ecstasy. So, he replied in the way he was trained to, and for everyone, it was enough. Enough for them to feel as though they'd done their part in getting to know him. Enough for them to pat themselves on the back. He found the plasticity of it disgustingly comical. Everyone was the same in that manner._

_For some reason, Zhangjing was not everyone._

_"What else?"_  
"Else?" Yanjun let loose of false chuckles. Again. It was all he knew. His script began to crack and he could only put himself on turbulent replay. "I'm afraid that's all."  
Zhangjing eyed him after that, and Yanjun suddenly felt self-conscious.  
"Let me word it differently then. What brings you joy and excitement? What gets you thrilled or riled up?"  
Yanjun felt his nails slide against the bench. He began to wonder if he'd end up resenting You Zhangjing. He didn't appreciate his fabricated image being threatened so easily. A loose end of wood impaled his finger and he felt himself steady. Through years of abuse, pain became the coping mechanism he used to bring himself back to his senses. He spoke again. 

_"Basketball and volunteer work."_

_Zhangjing seemed to let the words roll inside his mind for a moment before he gave a relentful nod._  
"So tell me about them."  
Yanjun felt his shoulders relax. They were back on track.  
"Well, I'm captain of the basketball team. We're the best high school team right now and have been winning all of our competitions. As the captain, I've come to realize as well as internalize all the challenges that come with it. More than just responsibility and strong leadership skills, I have to keep the team united and in top shape at all times. It's important that we so well because a lot of scholarships are offered to the players at our school. Additionally, I volunteer for a cancer association that-"  
"So what excites you?" Zhangjing interrupted. Yanjun paused. At this point, he didn't know how to react anymore.  
"I-I was…"  
It wasn't at all how he had been trained. It wasn't the 1+1 conversation he had been so used to hearing. He felt himself slip. And a rush of nerves hit him. His nails scratched against the wood again. Harder. Faster. He cursed internally at the fact that it refused to give him another splinter. 

_"You just look...I don't know, distant? Bored? When you talk about basketball I mean. I guess I'm looking for a subject that will spark something. I think those types of topics are best for conversation starters, don't you agree?"_

_Yanjun could only stare at the other. The truth was, he didn't even know what he liked. He didn't know what his hobbies were. He didn't know what excited him. He didn't know what brought him waves of jubilation._

_He didn't know what his favourite flavour of ice cream was._

_The realization was something he had been trying to avoid for years. And for those years he had been successful. The people surrounding his everyday life followed the script ingrained within his mind. Zhangjing didn't. And it scared him. He couldn't answer anymore, the thoughts corroded his throat and mind alike._

_Thankfully, he didn't have to, because Chaoze returned with two ice-creams. The trio began to walk home, Yanjun empty handed._

_The entire walk Yanjun thought of Zhangjing, and the rabbit boy's honest interest in him. For the first time, someone wanted to know what was underneath his mask. For the first time, someone wanted to know Lin Yanjun the soul, not the falsified body and voice. His original resentful feelings for Zhangjing warped themselves into curious ones. The older's questions prodded him to wonder about them himself. And the more he mulled over the words, the more he wanted to figure out the answers._

_They got to Chaoze and Zhangjing's house. Nobody knew where Yanjun lived except for Chaoze, and he never dared walk Yanjun to his home. The taller had firmly told him he did not want anybody in his house. Ever. So the other respected his instructions. It was one of the things Yanjun truly appreciated about Chaoze. He respected all of his personal wishes._

_While Chaoze fiddled with the keys to get inside, Zhangjing turned to Yanjun.  
"Let's hang out again sometime!" He said with another toothed smile. And just as he turned to follow Chaoze, Yanjun reached forward and snatched the sleeve of his sweater. Stopped in his tracks, Zhangjing turned around. Yanjun, being a fool, could only stare at the dark mire below him. He felt his cheeks and insides flare up. _

_"Strawberries. I like strawberries." He muttered. And wanted to slap himself for how frail it came out. But he had already started, so he figured he may as well end it.  
"So maybe...next time I'll try strawberry ice-cream." _

_Once he finished his statement, the boy wanted to bury himself underneath the grime. He thought the other might laugh at him, that he had permanently destroyed his image. But just as Yanjun felt the regret reach his head, Zhangjing smiled benevolently. He leaned closer to Yanjun, and upon asking the taller to look at him, Yanjun found himself obeying.  
"Good to know, I'll look forward to learn more about you. Especially if only a simple statement like this brings you to such a flustered state."_

_He began to step away before speaking again, leaving the other in a state of shock._

_"Alright, Lin Yanjun who likes strawberries, I'll anticipate our next meeting. Take care!" He waved before following Chaoze into the house._

_Yanjun stood. He felt his heart racing like it hadn't in years. Somehow, he felt that he broke a rule and that he would be punished severely. That he had misjudged the situation and Zhangjing didn't really care about him. But a small voice inside him hoped for a change. And the feeling of his adrenaline running wild after breaking years of pattern and fake images was liberating._

_He let loose of a breath he had been holding in for far too long, and decided he wanted to be around You Zhangjing more often._

_***_

_As the days flew by, Lin Yanjun did find himself spending more and more time with You Zhangjing. Every meeting came with the loosening of small facts about himself, followed by a rush of adrenaline. Somehow, it felt like Zhangjing was the first step in sharing himself as a human being rather than an object. And as much as it terrified him, he got addicted to the sensation of being independent from his image. It was the thrill that intertwined itself with the fear. He had never felt something so foreign. And he wanted more of it. Always more. Over time, it felt like Zhangjing and the way he smiled with all the bliss in the world every time he learned of Yanjun was enough to keep the boy satisfied. It became like a drug for him. He learned that he loved speaking about Lin Yanjun as the individual. And so he swallowed the terror of punishment boiling at the blood in his veins and accepted the unknown waiting ahead._

_It became a persistent habit, an unhealthy addiction, to be around You Zhangjing._

_"Do you even like basketball?" Zhangjing had once asked him. They were sitting against some lockers inside the school. The school day had ended several minutes prior and the halls stood more or less deserted. Yanjun had a basketball practice that started half an hour after the final hour of class. Zhangjing had kindly offered to wait with him until then, but the dread in the other's face was too noticeable not to question. With the bare naked hallways, Yanjun had started letting his mask fall off. He did that a lot around Zhangjing._

_"Of course I do." He replied with a sigh. He shut his eyes tight, not wanting to look at the other. "It's everything to my family- my father."_  
"What about you, Yanjun?"  
"Me too."  
Zhangjing bit his lip.  
"You don't have to lie around me, remember?"  
Yanjun then turned to face the other. The words got caught in his throat again. He didn't trust himself to speak, afraid that too much would fall. 

_He hated and loved how vulnerable he felt around the smaller._

_And finally, after a long silence, he shook his head. Zhangjing gave him a comforting smile._  
"Let's go, then." The smaller stood on his feet.  
"Wait, what?"  
"You don't like basketball, so why go? It's just futile to put so many hours into something that doesn't bring you any happiness." He didn't wait for the taller to answer, and headed for the doors. Yanjun stood once he saw that Zhangjing had started towards the exit. 

_"Wait-" he said, and snatched the other's arm, spinning him back around. His entire body tensed and slowly fell numb. Sure, figuring himself out and opening up to Zhangjing was one thing, but it was something his father wouldn't know of. Skipping a basketball game would surely lead to a severe beating. Yanjun trembled, afraid he would spend his days lamenting over the decision. Either way he went seemed to lead to something negative, whether it be a beating or missing a chance to free himself. His fear of regret blocked any form of contemplation. And whilst strangled by his thoughts, he didn't realize the amount of pressure he placed on his grip until he heard a faint wince from the other. He quickly pulled away at the sound, snapping back to reality. The boy gave a small apology before speaking once more.  
"I can't." He said so simply and yet he couldn't explain. It felt as though his father were watching him then and there. With narrow, menacing eyes and lips in a thin line. He shuddered again. _

_"Yanjun." Zhangjing said as he grasped the other's arms on either side. "Do the things you want to do in life. Spend your time bringing yourself joy, don't waste your youth doing things for other people. It'll drain you emotionally and physically, I can see that it already has." He cocked his head to the side a little, sending the taller a toothless smile. His next words, Yanjun would remember for years._

_"You can be selfish sometimes."_

_And with the release of the older's final statement, Yanjun decided. He decided he would go._

_As he left the building with the other, he couldn't help but realize the way his heart flipped and jumped whenever he was near Zhangjing. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if it was only because of the rush of adrenaline that came when breaking rules. For the first time, he considered that there may be another reason as to why he lost his words and constantly flushed around You Zhangjing._

_He swallowed the thought._

_They went to a park far away from the school and settled themselves on a bench. There was a slight breeze, and with closed eyes, Zhangjing extended his arms and breathed it all in._

_"It's so nice out." The smaller mused. He hummed to a gentle melody upon noticing how tense the other had gotten. Yanjun had his fists clenched against his lap. He suddenly felt the world collapsing around him. His world. The one he had created. He whipped his head around to face the other, his face pale and eyes bulging._  
"Zhangjing-"  
Suddenly, he felt the smaller hand on his own. The older was tracing gentle circles around his palm as he continued his soft humming. It was as if he was telling the other that everything would be okay. To let go. 

_So, with a lot of effort on his part, Yanjun forced his hands to loosen from their tensity._

_"I know that song." He said quietly. Zhangjing grinned widely._  
"Really?"  
He received a nod in return.  
"Sing with me then?" Zhangjing offered before continuing on with the song. He didn't wait for a reply, because he knew Yanjun all too well. That the younger wouldn't consider anything out of his comfort zone unless put on the spot, without any time for contemplation. 

_This time, rather than a gentle humming, the smaller voiced the lyrics as well. And god how Yanjun loved his voice. The voice was passionate, and sweet like fresh honey in the midst of summer. A hint of delight leaving his lips like a spur of twisted blithe. Yanjun's heart calmed at the mellifluous sound. It didn't matter if Zhangjing simply spoke or sung out loud, it was always beautiful. Zhangjing was beautiful. And before he could stop himself, Yanjun heard himself singing along. He was much quieter than Zhangjing, but he didn't stop. Zhangjing squeezed his hand when he did. And for a moment, everything felt still. His heart felt light._

_Then, the song ended. There was silence for a few minutes as the two took in the scenery and result of the moment they shared. Zhangjing spoke._

_"I didn't know you were such a good singer." He said warmly. Yanjun felt his cheeks heat up._  
"I'm not- I mean, I don't sing well. Compared to you- you sing well." He stumbled on his words and as embarrassing as it was, he felt that it would be okay with Zhangjing.  
"No, you're actually really talented! " Zhangjing rebuked. He wrapped his hands around Yanjun's arm and shook it lightly. "I'm serious!"  
"Really?" He looked at the other. Yanjun had grown fond of Zhangjing being tied to his arm, as the smaller did it quite often. Zhangjing nodded vigorously.  
"To be honest, I sang a little as a kid." Yanjun admitted, recalling the nights he would sing himself to sleep as a child. It would comfort him from the pain. Before the pain became that comfort, that is. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. 

_"Do you enjoy it?" Zhangjing asked.  
"Very much." Yanjun admitted with the release of a held breath. _

_And he smiled at himself. Because he started to uncover the Lin Yanjun beneath the veil of perfection. Because he finally started to feel human._

_And it was all thanks to the rabbit appearing man he had met only several weeks prior._

_***_

_He received a sharp slap across the face. It stung. And his father's dour expression being sliced by a slight tug at the lip told him there was a mark. Yanjun stared at the floor below him. In retrospect, he saw it coming. But spending time with Zhangjing and cracking through his mask made it worth all the abuse in the world. He decided he wouldn't try to explain himself. That he'd say it as it was. He felt a surge of courage._

_"I hate basketball."_

_The statement was followed by a punch to the stomach. He bent forward involuntarily, but it didn't stop him._

_"I like singing."_

_He received another punch, this time beneath the chin- a hard attempt to shut him up. He felt the knuckles power against his bones and bit his lip to prevent any cry of pain. His teeth clashed into each other and there was an immediate release of crimson fluid from his mouth. The boy found himself debilitated to the point of being on his knees, holding his stomach. Hot, vermilion liquid dripped from his mouth. He spat it out. All the while, his father grabbed a bat from underneath the couch. He turned to the boy, looming above him like a demon. He prepared a virulent attack on his son's wrongdoings._

_"Stop talking." He ordered, and there came a powerful swing of the bat against the younger's shoulder. With that, Yanjun couldn't bite back his tongue any longer. There came a loud cry of pain as he fell on his side. His hand shot up to his shoulder, wondering if his father had gone so far as to dislocate it. It didn't matter anyway. The punishment was far from over._

_"Take off your clothes." Was the next order. Yanjun forced himself to a sitting position. Slowly, he began slipping out of his uniform. The boy continued to strip until the only remaining piece of clothing was his undergarments. He kicked the uniform to his father's general direction. Immediately, the man seized the garments and flung them onto the couch. Yanjun knew his father hated when his clothes got messy._

_Blood stains were hard to wash out, after all._

_And the beating began once again. It started with the bat, but once his father grew bored of that, he slipped off his belt. A cloth was secured over the boy's mouth to prevent any deafening wails from slipping out. It became a custom, as the man couldn't have his obnoxiously inquisitive neighbours calling the police. Once the cloth was tightened over his lips, Yanjun knelt in front of a wall. Putting up a fight was useless, he had learned that long ago. And as the whips started and sharp stings came, his screams fell muffled behind the fabric. The tears came like waterfalls down his cheeks. He waited for it to end, eventually writhing over the ground in inexplicable pain._

_"You're going to be present at tomorrow's game."_

_Was all that left the man's lips before he exited the house. Yanjun shuddered and curled into himself. It was one of the worst ones he'd had in awhile._

_And yet, he found himself not regretting a thing. Becoming himself was worth the pain._

_Or so he thought._

_That same night, Yanjun lay wide awake. He couldn't sleep, because even the slightest movement caused a rush of pain. He wondered momentarily how he would play basketball under his current condition, but quickly realized worrying about it wouldn't do much. He had to participate whether he wanted to or not. Whether injured to hospitalization or not. To try comforting himself, the boy hummed to the song he had sung with Zhangjing only a few hours prior. And soon enough, his palpitating heart settled. Simply thinking of the other brought him to a position of fleeting peace, and he treasured the feeling more than any other. Yanjun closed his eyes._

_Zhangjing was the person who knew the most about him, and as much as he trusted the other, Yanjun would never tell him about what happened behind closed doors. The scars, bruises and pigmented marks would remain hidden forever. That he was sure of. He buried himself in the silence of night._

_Only when the night was at its peak did that quietude break. The rusted nails hissed and Yanjun heard the door to his room creak open. In slipped a dowdy woman. His mother. Yanjun's brows furrowed. His mother usually stayed in her room, leaving the door closed shut in order to block everything happening outside her little world. At times, when she was drunk and angry, she too would burn the child with the butt of her cigarette or smash a glass bottle and use the shards with malicious intentions. It all happened in a fit of spite. It wasn't nearly as much as his father did, but he still resented the woman in some ways. He held his side and sat up, letting loose of a low grunt when the pain stabbed at his insides._

_"Mom?" He whispered, his voice hoarse. The woman quickly shushed him._  
"I didn't know you were awake." She said, as if that would explain anything.  
"Why are you here? Are you going somewhere?" He asked upon noticing the coat she wore over her shoulders. She shushed him once again, and although it was dark, Yanjun didn't miss the quiver of her lip. In an attempt to compose herself, his mother reached out her hand, retracted it, then reached once more. Slowly, she placed her bony fingers between his dark strands and began to stroke them. He saw her crack the beginnings of a smile. 

_"I'm leaving, Yanjun." She whispered almost regretfully._  
"Where? Why at night? When are you coming back?" The teenage boy queried.  
"To an old friend's house. Recently we've been talking again and she- she spoke of this beautiful eutopia. A new religion built off a group of people who call themselves 'Mask'. I'm- I won't be coming back." She admitted. Yanjun straightened himself, his eyes troubled and mind dazed. He shook his head in bewilderment.  
"What?" Was all he managed to splutter in a fit of confusion. He wanted details, but didn't know where to start.  
"Please, Yanjun. I know I haven't been the best mother to you. But that's also one of the reasons I can't stay here any longer. When you find the courage, and have a plan, I advise you to do the same. And if we find you, Mask will come for you as well." 

_With a gentle kiss on the forehead, the woman draped in black leather fled behind the door, leaving it only slightly ajar. Yanjun sat still, too stunned to understand at first. But when he did, he quickly forced himself to his feet, stumbling for the door._

_Upon opening it, there was nobody in sight. The city was tranquil under the darkness of night. The stars were eerily dim, and nothing stirred beneath the glowing orbs of light._

_Yanjun broke._

_***_

_Of course, Yanjun's father blamed him the following morning. But the mourning lacked earnesty. Unsurprisingly, the man didn't seem to care at all for his wife's undisclosed disappearance. It seemed that it was just another reason to control his son. In fact, the man seemed shamelessly eager to scold the other. Typical. Despite this, Yanjun didn't receive any beatings that morning- solely because he had an important basketball game that evening that he needed to be physically apt for._

_The boy laughed internally._

_His father should have thought of that the night before._

_Before the game started, he was met with Zhangjing and Chaoze. They both wished him luck and pointed to where they would sit in the bleachers to cheer for him. He gave a short smile and thanks. While Chaoze started for the seats, Zhangjing waited behind._  
"Yanjun, are you alright? You look a bit off."  
"I'm fine, Zhangjing, really." He said with another smile. Zhangjing felt his blood simmer.  
"Don't give me that smile. Don't be like that." He spat, but there was a hint of plea that lingered amongst it.  
"What do you mean?" Yanjun forced a chuckle, he buried all his emotions deep within himself. "I'm pumped for the game!" He feigned as one of his teammates called him over. The game would shortly begin.  
"Well, gotta go!" He said with a wave, keeping the smile as he ran over. He was anxious to distance himself from Zhangjing, knowing all too well how easily the smaller could see through his facade.  
"Yanjun!" The other called, but it was too late, the taller had already gone. Zhangjing bit his lip. In his gut, he knew something was very, very wrong. He knew he and Yanjun needed to talk. 

_***_

_They won the game, but it was no real surprise. Their team was the best for a reason. That reason being that Yanjun's father wouldn't allow it to be any other way. The boy made most of the shots, and ignored the surge of pain that shot through his body everytime he twisted in the slightest. His dad gave a small, rewarding smile. In the past, that was enough. Now, the boy felt a metallic taste bubble inside his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to punch the smile off his father's face._

_Once he had been congratulated multiple times, the man went to shower and change. He always waited for everyone to depart before entering the showers, as he couldn't risk being seen unclothed. When he finished showering, the boy threw a towel around his waist and headed for the change rooms, singing gently to himself. He took much longer than needed in the showers, and he'd be damned if it made his father wait in the car for him. He was in tears, because even if his mother was a bad one, she was still his mother. And she was gone. So he deserved that much. He bewailed her sudden withdrawal from his life, yes, but more so, he wanted to know what 'Mask' was. Part of himself passed it off at crazy talk- that she was drunk or on drugs again. Another part of him wondered._

_Just as he began pulling out fresh clothes from one of the lockers, he heard a small gasp behind him. It vibrated through his entire body, reverberating deep inside his skull. And suddenly he could feel his nakedness._

_'Someone saw me.'_

_Yanjun spun around. His heart dropped. Because that someone was You Zhangjing._

_The smaller had come in a fit of worry to ask what had been bothering the taller. He didn't expect to see a back full of whip marks. Let alone the torso and stomach that bloomed pigments of purple and crimson from the cuts and bruises. He put a shaking hand over his mouth. Tears threatened the brinks of his eyes._

_Yanjun's lungs collapsed. He felt as though he was drowning inside himself again. It was all an error- allowing himself to open up to someone. Letting a person get that close to him. Everything was wrong. Everything was so, so wrong. He could see that now._

_Meeting You Zhangjing was the gravest mistake he had ever done._

_He knew it was from the moment they had met, but dug himself deeper in the relationship with selfish intentions. And now, he faced the consequences of those actions._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said the last chapter was longer than my other ones? This one is twice the length lmao. And there's a part two bros. Yanjun is suffering.
> 
> Also I know the writing is really awkward at some parts please forgive me I'm on vacation and have been too lazy to edit properly oops. I think I fixed most of it but I hope you guys dont cringe too much at the ass writing in some parts because I know I did.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanjun's backstory part 2/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter includes physical abuse, mention of self-harm, and mild non-con touching.

It was all a mistake. 

Yanjun quickly seized the shirt lying over his opened locker. His gaze pounded on Zhangjing, refusing and unable to spare even a single glance elsewhere. The stare wasn't met as Zhangjing was fixated on his outer scars, not the internal ones hidden behind eyes. Yanjun's hope collapsed in an instant. The piece of fabric was pulled over himself in a fruitless attempt to hide from the other. It was pointless, yes, but as Yanjun couldn't stomach the sight, he found is difficult to behave rationally. The boy acted solely on impulse, and this impulse had always been veiling himself. 

The person he least wanted to taint with the knowledge of his identity ended up being the first to discover it. For months, the boy had endured torment only to break the chains of old habits and seek liberty. With the guidance of the older, Yanjun began feeling the skin of his mask decay. He waited for a day when it would crumble off his face. When he could step over the fibres and let the wind of a serendipitous future carry them away. The envisionment soon materialized into a plan rather than a simple dream. He wanted to open himself up to Zhangjing, and create a new Lin Yanjun. Zhangjing finding out about everything was never part of that plan.

Suddenly, Yanjun realized that in his attempt to break the image he portrayed to the world, he had created a new one with Zhangjing. One that disregarded any bruises and scars- an image now defeated and proved guilty by testimony and eyewitness. The boy gulped. His head spun, and the realization of forever being trapped in some sort of facade made his insides knot. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he would never succeed in surrendering himself. He could not capitulate to his reality. One that was untouched, unfiltered, and raw to the bone. It was just impossible. 

Yanjun wasn't sure if he wanted to scream, cry, or apologize. So he didn't say thing. 

Thankfully, neither did Zhangjjng, still holding the same position he had the moment he saw the other's naked body. Yanjun's mentality plummeted at the sight. If hiding didn't work, his next tactic was fleeing. So, the boy grabbed his bag and flung it over his shoulder before storming out of the change rooms, leaving no glance back at Zhangjing. He walked right past the smaller, who was still unmoving in his state of shock. As Yanjun stalked down the hallways, he couldn't help but feel his heart disintegrate. In the few months he had gotten to know the smaller, he had taken every risk he swore he would never. In the end, it was all for nothing. He wondered if he had even made any progress at all. 

When he got into the passenger's seat of his father's car, he hoped for more silence. Unfortunately, he didn't receive it. The man congratulated him once more before delving into where the boy had slipped and how he could improve. Because there is always room for improvement in the Lin family.  
Yanjun simply stared out the window solemnly. He didn't want to hear any of it, positive feedback or not. He yearned for the world to stop so he could sort out his emotions. 

"Yanjun?"  
The boy snapped out of his thoughts and looked over to his father.  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm going to dinner with some colleagues tonight, so we'll have to celebrate your victory another day. As for dinner, there are leftovers in the fridge if you want some." His father glanced at him, almost sorry. Yanjun didn't miss how he tapped on the wheel nervously. "I'll make it up to you and buy you anything you want. We can have cake too, just this once because it's a special occasion. It could be some father and son time, you know, just the two of us." 

Yanjun shut his eyes. He knew that as much as he hated his father, he couldn't help but notice the few times the man actually tried to create a loving bond between the two of them. It was far too late for that, but Yanjun sometimes pretended it wasn't. He was used to pretending, and had gotten so good at it that he could even fool the mastermind who had taught him everything he knew. His father. 

So Yanjun showed a weak smile.

"Thanks, dad. That sounds really nice." 

He was dropped off at the house before his father drove away and entered it alone. 

Yanjun spent the night trying to distract himself from Zhangjing and the turning of events that evening. He sat down, overwhelmed to a point of desensitization. The immediate response was diverting his attention elsewhere, and the initial thought that clouded his mind was harming himself. To inflict physical pain so that for a moment, the emotional trauma would be interrupted and shifted from its position of priority. He let out slow, counted breaths, attempting to steady himself. Part of himself was addicted to the high that came the first few moments following self-torture. To the shot of agony in the specified region he so deliberately chose. To the opposing mind tricks that distorted common sense, making the act seem involuntary. To the fear of himself and his actions. To the eventual guilt of being dependent on such a deranged habit. To the forgetting and numbing of an even scarier mind.

But as much as he felt himself craving the sensation, the boy found in that moment that he was, in fact, even more addicted to the exertion of challenging those actions. And it seemed that in the end, as much as he forced himself to think everything he had learned with Zhangjing was worthless, he couldn't help but feel an itch to keep modifying his customs. So the boy held back. Even when it got persistent, even when his mind prodded and begged him to, the boy sat still, holding himself down. 

Although completely alone, the night was loud. Yanjun had turned on the tv in an ineffective strive towards distraction. It did no such thing. The boy didn't even notice when it fell to static due to the pouring rain that knocked at his door. Lightning blazed vibrantly and thunder crashed like waves of despair. But that wasn't what was really loud. No, it was Yanjun's worries that lacked any empathy or sense of decency. That tempestuous heart of his that so stubbornly refused to give him any rest. They screamed in his head and the boy felt he was spinning in the gates of hell. He grabbed onto a pillow aggressively, holding is against himself. He halted his pensive mood and stared at the static, mesmerized by its psychotic factors. The spontaneous rush of black and white mixed with a loud distortion seemed to replicate his sentiment with uncanny accuracy. He listened to the echoes or thunder, counting the seconds that fled by before it came again. Anything to escape the devil eating up his brain, and silence the chaotic battle within. Yanjun buried his face into the cushion, convincing himself not to do anything rash. In a way, he wanted to prove to himself that he had made progress. That he wasn't the same as he was before he met Zhangjing. Because if he was, he would give up all hope and succumb to a life of pretending. He would fall to the submission of a fate absent of freedom. 

For hours, he stayed like this. Manipulated by his conversing thoughts like a puppet. He stared at nothing. The rain poured. The hurricane inside only strengthening. 

Then, something broke his thoughts. A knock on the door. Yanjun turned his head towards the sound, confused as he expected nobody for the rest of the night. He sighed. At first, the boy was certain his father had returned early, and was rather angry about it. He wanted- no, needed some time for himself. But it wasn't like he was in a position to ignore the sound. So the boy went for the door, accepting his defeat. It was only when he opened it that he realized his father wasn't there. 

Chestnut hair. Cheeks made of roses. Petite frame. Large, bright eyes. It was Zhangjing. 

Yanjun's mouth fell open. And for a moment, he considered the thought that it could be a figment of his imagination. The boy before him shivered furiously, drenched in rain. He wore a thin, black raincoat that failed to shield him from a storm so ferocious. His eyes, barely able to stay open under the pressure, looked into the younger's.

It definitely wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Immediately, Yanjun grabbed the other by his sleeve and pulled him inside. The door was quickly shut. 

"Zhangjing?" Was all he could muster. The boy turned to him, his arms hugging himself and teeth chattering. The large amount of water residing on him trickled to the floor. His hair was heavy and darkened by the rain. It clung onto his forehead, the curls barely keeping themselves intact. He opened a shaking mouth.  
"I needed-d t-to see y-y-you." Zhangjing said between chattering teeth. He sniffed his now runny nose, quivering and cold. Yanjun's heart melted, but the outburst of emotions he felt kept him from finding any words. So he did what he did best. He kept his feelings shut. 

Without answering the smaller, he guided Zhangjing to the washroom. No other words were spoken from either of the two when Yanjun gave him a towel and dry clothes to change into. He then settled himself on a chair by the kitchen table, his head lowered into his arms. He tried to catch his breath. 

Once the smaller came out mostly dried off, they began to talk. Yanjun started with a simple question.  
"How do you know where I live?" He asked. It was a seldom visited household, after all. Only a select few knew where he resided. And Zhangjing was not one of them. He had never told the other because he was too afraid of the possibility that the other would find out the truth. It didn't matter anymore, since he found out anyway. And Yanjun suddenly felt bitter at Zhangjing's sudden appearance. He had partly convinced himself it was just a dream, or that he could go back to his image the next day. That nobody else would question him. That nobody would go against his words. That even he could persuade himself into believing it was not real. 

Zhangjing showing up at his door destroyed all that in the blink of an eye. 

"Chaoze." Zhangjing answered simply. And Yanjun should have known. But he blamed himself for this outcome. He shouldn't have trusted Chaoze with that information either.

He shouldn't trust anyone.

"Why are you here?" He asked, knowing all too well what the other had witnessed only a few hours ago. His tone was sharp, and he sent the words with the inkling of an attack. He saw Zhangjing stiffen at the sound, and there was a long pause before he answered. He was unable to look at Yanjun, which only aggravated the other even more. 

"I don't know." He finally said, and Yanjun couldn't help but laugh at the half-assed reply. He had meant to do it internally, as he always had. But the look on Zhangjing's face told him it wasn't silent, and that he had actually chuckled at the statement. He realized that maybe he had gotten too used to Zhangjing. That he couldn't control or discern his actions and thoughts around the other anymore. That the line between mind and reality became too nebulous to act safely. It was getting dangerous. He looked at Zhangjing in disbelief.  
"Don't lie to me." He said, for he was certain that Zhangjing would never speak to him again after the sight. The fact that the boy had returned only hours later made Yanjun uneasy. 

"I'm not lying! I- yes, okay, I needed to talk to you after what happened earlier. I just don't know why- or how- or where to- to start. I just couldn't-"  
"Why do you want to know?" Yanjun suddenly snapped again. He didn't know why, but his blood was boiling. "Is it that interesting? Is it that entertaining- to tear me apart piece by piece? To know the details?"  
"What?" Zhangjing was taken aback. Suddenly, his voice was defensive. "I never said that! I don't like this Yanjun. Why would you even imply something like that?"  
"Then why are you here? You've already seen it all so what more could you take-huh?"  
"I-I told you, I don't know- I couldn't think straight I just needed to see you. I was so worried after- after seeing-" 

Yanjun laughed again, rolling his eyes. He hoped Zhangjing wouldn't notice how he blinked back tears.  
"Stop dancing around it, Zhangjing. Be honest and say it."  
"What?"  
"I'm telling you to say what we both know you're thinking. What you want from me." He curled his fists, digging his nails into the soft skin of his palm. The rage spread like a flame meeting gasoline. He glared at the other, and Zhangjing looked as though he were a second away from breaking down.  
"What do you want me to say!? Yanjun I-"  
"Say it! For fucks sake just SAY IT!" The boy's voice grew to an angry roar as he lost his temper. He slammed his fists on the table and stood from his chair. Zhangjing retracted, the look in his eyes like a prey jumping from its predator. There came no verbal response to the action, but a single tear fell over his cheeks. 

"Fine, I'll say it for you, then." Yanjun dared. "You thought it'd be fun to waltz into my life and flip me upside down. To push me past the boundaries. To give me risk after risk. I walked on a tightrope every single time I was with you, you know that? Every fucking time. Did you like it? Being with someone so desperate for help?"  
"No! That-that's not how it was! That's not how I felt- how I feel!" Zhangjing raised his voice to a desperate shout. The few tears streaming down his face rapidly multiplying after every word.

Yanjun blocked away the other's replies. And he let every pent up emotion release itself. Maybe it was because he had grown so used to showing his true colours around the other. Maybe it came from years of bottled pain. Maybe it was in his blood, passed down from his father. It didn't matter which, because the boy did it anyway.

Yanjun snapped. 

He tore off his shirt, exposing every cut. Every burn. Every bruise. Every scar. His ugliness and his pain. He was right in front of the smaller now, staring down at him. His eyes brooding and glassy but face red with anger.  
"I know what you're here to see, but you're too much of a coward to admit it. You want to see this, don't you? Well, congratulations You Zhangjing! You've seen every part of me! You've cracked through the beast! It's what you wanted, right?" He slammed his hand on the table again, simultaneously timorous and provoked to vexation.  
"Oh my god- Yanjun! Do you even hear yourself right now?!" Zhangjing was on his feet, sobbing like Yanjun had never seen anyone sob before. It twisted the younger's heart. 

It was too late to save himself, so Yanjun told Zhangjing everything. He was angry with himself for being so screwed up in the head. That he wasn't in the position to change even though he deluded himself into believing he could for months. In the moment, though, he could only take out that anger on the boy who showed him escape. On the boy who brought him the first step of a staircase leading to freedom. He was foolish to believe he could climb when there were obvious chains around his ankles. Big, dark, heavy chains. They would hold him down for eternity. 

"Since I was a kid I've had to be the perfect son. There was no room for imperfection, and if I didn't do everything right?" He grabbed a glass from the table and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall. Zhangjing jumped at the sound.  
" 'You think you're clever? You think this family has room for failures? For retards? Failures don't get anywhere in life. Now learn.' " In a fit of rage, Yanjun mimicked his father and the man's punches in the air. " 'Your father still loves you Yanjun, now be a good little boy and everyone will love you.' " 

Love. He didn't know what love was. He was a puppet under the influence of a manipulative family. His father found paradise in the power he had over his son. His words carefully chosen and delivered like a poisoned needle impaling soft skin, slow and targeting the nerves that would send Yanjun to emotional torture. Until he could watch the boy suffer with rapture. Until the boy would curl up in the corner of his room with his hands over his head and knees against his chest, clawing at his scalp to try and get the echoed voices to stop. 

"SHUT UP!" Yanjun screamed when the memories he had been suppressing began bubbling to surface. He pressed his hands against his ears, body shaking furiously. His cheeks were sticky with the burning of hot tears. He didn't know when he started crying. He didn't care. 

And suddenly, the world fell. Unsure of what to do, Zhangjing had forced himself against the other's chest, hugging Yanjun tightly. Yanjun's body limped. His voice disappeared. His tears dwindled. 

He really, really hated and loved how vulnerable the smaller made him feel. 

"Yanjun, listen to me! You need to get help! You can't keep living under these circumstances- it'll break you!" Zhangjing wept.  
'It already has.' Yanjun thought. But "I'm used to it already," was what he ended up muttering once his rage had petered to numbness.  
"Don't say that…"  
"I don't care anymore, Zhangjing. I prayed every day as a child. I used every coin on a wishing well, every birthday wish, every blow of a dandelion's head to wish for it to end. And guess what, it never did. It doesn't matter anymore, it doesn't hurt me. Not like it used to at least."  
"It hurts me!" Zhangjing retracted, placing significance on the final word. And the statement tore at Yanjun's heart strings. 

Zhangjing was still clinging onto the other so tightly it was as if he needed Yanjun to survive. The way he locked his arms around the other's torso. The way he yelled empty words into his shoulder. The way he gently ran his thumb in circles against the younger's back, as if that were a habit he couldn't control whenever they made contact. Yanjun released a shaking breath. 

"Y-you don't have to do this alone. I'll help! We can call the child help line- just showing them the scars is enough proof. They'll lock him up, send you to another family. And if they don't find anyone, you can stay with me and Chaoze. And we'll be nice to you, we'll take care of you, and make sure you're always happy. You won't ever have to hide anymore, and-and I'll make sure you never hurt again, okay?" Zhangjing was still crying, though quietly now. He never let go of his embrace as he spoke. Yanjun's fists remained clenched at his sides, refusing to touch the other until that point out of fear of what would ensue of him if he did. His emotions were going haywire. 

"Why do you want to help me so badly?"  
"Because believe it or not, I care about you Lin Yanjun."  
His jaw clenched. This wasn't good. This wasn't okay. People weren't supposed to like him in his weakened state. People weren't supposed to like him without his image. Nothing made sense with Zhangjing. He forced the words he had been wondering for some time now.  
"But why do you care?"  
"I just do! Does it need an explanation?"  
He shut his eyes.  
'Yes, yes it does. Nothing you do or say makes any sense. You're driving me insane.' Was what he desperately wanted to say. Instead, he released a simpler question. 

"What do you want from me?" 

"I want you to do the things you want to do, take the things you want in life! Stop changing yourself for the sake of others' wishes! Be selfish sometimes." 

And suddenly Yanjun couldn't take it anymore. Part of himself was incensed. Zhangjing just didn't understand. It was not as simple as the older made it out to be. He barely knew anything about the situation and yet he spoke as if a recovery was easy. As if Yanjun hadn't already thought of contacting authorities thousands of times before. 

Another part of himself felt an overwhelming sensation of relief. Somehow, he wanted to believe that it would be that simple. He wanted to be with Zhangjing. He hated how Zhangjing made him feel. He was confused and scared. But another voice told him he loved it. He wanted the other. And in a fury of opposing emotions, he snapped one last time.

If Zhangjing wanted Yanjun to pull out even his sickest emotions, then so be it.

Yanjun suddenly grabbed hold of Zhangjing's shoulders and slammed the other against the wall. He stared down at the other like a wolf.  
"You want me to be selfish?" He repeated the other's words, low and predatory. "You want me to take the things I want?" His eyes flickered only once to the smaller's lips.

"Fine."

And with the release of the word, Yanjun cupped Zhangjing's cheeks in his hands and leaned in. Their lips met. A wave of emotion his Yanjun's stomach. He had never felt so connected, he had never been so close- so intimate. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that he had been conditioned to connect with Zhangjing. He felt his body shake and mind buzz. Everything seemed to slow down and speed up at once and Yanjun could barely keep himself upright. He went into overdrive, moving in deeper and harder. It was sloppy and aggressive and Yanjun could feel the tears trickling down his face again. Zhangjing had his hands limp against Yanjun's chest, not reacting. His eyes bulging in shock. 

Yanjun didn't put any thought into it, only reacting off emotion. He pushed his tongue into the other's mouth and a small whimper was followed from the other. It made his head feel hazy, and in the heat of the moment, he failed to realize that the front door had opened once again. 

"Lin Yanjun." 

The boy suddenly stopped. He pulled away from Zhangjing but withheld looking back. The familiar voice sent every fragment of courage in his possession spilling down the drain. He was barely able to keep himself from collapsing on the spot. It seemed that life was immodest about shooting him down. Finally, he turned to face the speaker.

His father. 

Without hesitation, Yanjun grabbed Zhangjing's forearm and pushed the smaller behind him. Suddenly, he couldn't care less what happened to him, only demanding that Zhangjing be left untouched. The older hid himself behind Yanjun, staying impossibly close to the other. Yanjun narrowed his eyes at his father when the man glanced at the smaller boy. 

"I thought you had an important dinner tonight." He said. His father sighed.  
"I left early because of the storm…" He announced as he stared at Yanjun's bare chest, every mark open to spectate. Then, he moved his gaze back to Zhangjing. Yanjun knew exactly what his father was thinking.  
"He'll keep his mouth shut." He told the man, and when he felt Zhangjing shift behind him in opposition to the statement, he squeezed his arm tighter.  
"He accidentally walked in on me changing today after the game. I invited him over to explain." Yanjun asserted.  
The comment peaked his father's interest. A slight shift in his stance, a waver in his eyes, and a hesitating lip before speaking; the man was nervous.  
"Oh? And what did you say?"  
"The truth. That I had been in some gang activity recently. And that it got out of control." Yanjun lied. He knew that if his father found out that Zhangjing knew the actual truth, the smaller would be in grave danger. Thankfully, Zhangjing stayed silent. He saw his father relax. Then, he responded, affirming Yanjun's declaration. He was gifted in the art of bullshitting when explaining things. Another thing Yanjun had learned from him. 

"You understand how my son being involved in gang activity must be kept a secret, right? He's working on leaving and cleaning himself up, but for now, his scars must be kept confidential. Do you understand?" His father asked Zhangjing. The smaller glanced up at Yanjun. He didn't want to agree. He didn't want to let the other's father get away. But the look Yanjun sent him told him there was no other choice. And the chills running down his spine encouraged an agreement. 

Reluctantly, Zhangjing nodded.  
"I understand." He muttered.  
"I think you should get home. Your parents will start to worry." Yanjun advised the smaller. Zhangjing frowned at the other, screaming his worries wordlessly. Yanjun shook his head. 

The man offered Zhangjing a ride home, in which Yanjun rejoined that he would walk. The boy could not trust his father alone in a car with the smaller, especially now that his father was suspicious of Zhangjing and how much knowledge he held over the family.  
"It's storming outside, I don't want him to get a cold. Really, I insist." The man persisted. 

Yanjun considered it for a moment.  
"Alright, I'll come for the ride." 

The ride to Chaoze's house was silent. The faint playing of music came and fell within the storm. The roads were dark and eerie. Zhangjing held his head down and Yanjun felt his mind deaden. Finally, they pulled up to the home, and Yanjun refused to even glance at Zhangjing when he stepped out of the vehicle. For a moment, the boy even wished to eradicate the relationship he had formed with the other. He desired a painless loneliness from the world. 

*** 

Once they returned home, Yanjun stormed for his room, the emotions going wild within him again. He was stopped by his father, who immediately intertwined his fingers into the boy's hair and jerked him back. Yanjun let go of a low wince as he was dragged by his locks towards the kitchen. He didn't struggle; a poor strive at easing the pain, he supposed. Finally, he was thrown onto the ground.

"What did you do?" His father hissed. Yanjun stood up, emotionally exhausted to the bone. There was a demoralized dullness in the way he vocalized his words.  
"I already told you everything. Leave me alone."  
He received a sharp slap.  
"Don't talk back to me!"  
Yanjun shut his mouth. The man adjusted himself uncomfortably.  
"You say you invited him over to explain? Tell me why you two were in the middle of such an- an intimate action when I arrived, then." 

There was a long pause. Yanjun couldn't answer, because he himself didn't know why. It wasn't planned nor anticipated, as the action came to happen through the unforeseen rise in emotion. He could barely remember what had led him to push that boundary in the first place. 

"I've been too gentle with you recently, or maybe your mother has. Either way, this indifference has turned you weak. You lost your grip, and fell to grave sin because of that disgusting little boy."  
Yanjun's eyes shot up, every ounce of numbness overtaken by rage.  
"What the hell did you just call him?" He spat.  
"Don't curse at me!" His father yelled with another attempted slap. And then Yanjun had had enough. Before pain met skin the boy's hand shot up and grabbed his father's, holding it in place. He felt all his rage move to his fist and in the heat of the moment he swung at the other. Every time he had wanted to do it since childhood came at once. And it released solid, sending the man flying to the ground. Yanjun breathed heavily. Maybe Zhangjing was right. Maybe he had to start standing up for himself and what he cared about.

The man muttered a curse as he held the back of his head in pain. "When did you get so brave Yanjun? Did the little bitch teach you this too?"  
As soon as the man was on his feet, Yanjun grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the table.  
"If you speak about him like that again I will personally sew your mouth shut, do you understand?" 

There was a moment of nothing but heavy breathing between the two. Then, it was broken by a single, but powerful word.

"Leave." 

"What?"  
"Leave! Run away like every failure does! Just like your mother did." His father spat, disgust ever present in his jet-black orbs.  
Yanjun felt angry tears at his eyes.  
"Fine! I've been wanting to anyway! Finally some fucking freedom from your controlling ways!" He said as he stormed into his room and began packing a duffel bag. The tears streamed down his face.  
"You've failed in every possible way!" He heard the man yell from the other room.  
"Good! I don't want to share your morals and views on what success and failure is anyway! I'm nothing like you!" Yanjun rebuked angrily, grabbing the only money he had, some spare clothes and some valuables before heading for the door. He only made one stop. It was right before leaving, he looked at a portrait on a side table. It was of him as a child, with his mother and father. They were on a camping trip. In the photo he smiled, but he remembered crying himself to sleep that day. And it was only in that moment that the boy truly internalized how much of his life had been a lie. Suddenly, he grabbed the frame and smashed it onto the ground.  
"I did everything for you. I gave up my childhood, my life, my freedom for you." Yanjun said, low and angry. He turned to his father one last time. "What are you gonna do now? You caused your entire family to flee. If anything, you're the failure around here." 

And with the release of pent up words and expressions, Yanjun ran from the building. 

He only found cover from the pouring rain inside a bus stop much later. His entire body stood drenched to the bone. The boy pulled out his phone. Thankfully, the device still worked. He opened up to his contacts and called Chaoze. 

It went to voicemail. 

He expected it. It was past midnight after all, so the boy was probably asleep. Yanjun left a message.  
"Hey, Chaoze!" He said, swallowing hard. He hated lying to his friend, but he found that he had no other choice. He needed to explain his sudden absence. Part of him wanted to say nothing and let his father deal with the repercussions. Another part of him just wanted to close it up and run away. Never returning. He chose the latter, wanting dearly to leave everything behind and start a clean slate. That would mean nobody questioning his sudden leave. He knew what story to tell, for it was one he had heard his father joke about using if anything ever happened to him on several occasions. He gave himself a couple seconds of preparation before delving in. 

"I know this is sudden, but I'll be switching to a boarding school in another city. Apparently someone pretty important saw me play earlier today and offered me a place in the dorms. Being at this school could really up my chances in getting a good basketball scholarship and looks good on a resume too." He bit his lip, forcing shut any sound that prodded his lips as he felt his eyes water.  
"I'm sorry for leaving like this, I wish I could say a proper goodbye but...this is a really good opportunity for me, please understand. Thank you for being a real friend to me. You really made high school bearable." He finished with a light chuckle. "Well, I'll let off now. I wish you the best." 

With a sigh, the boy finished his message. He then searched for another contact.

You Zhangjing. 

His finger hovered over the name for several minutes. He clicked it. And immediately afterwards, he hung up, not letting it ring once. He just couldn't do it. 

He looked at the three missed calls from his father since leaving that night dismissively, as well as the texts. 'Get yourself back home this instant', 'You'll be sorry'. 

And then, the most recent one.

'I'm sorry.' 

With drawn brows, Yanjun deleted all three contacts from his phone. The last bus rolled to a stop before him and he got on, heading nowhere. 

***

Months had passed since Yanjun left home. He was situated in a club sketchy enough not to ID the 17-year-old. His sharp facial features and height gave the teenager a few years. He sat by the bar, too exhausted to stand up. The music was deafening and the stench of sweat and sex foetid, but it drowned his hunger. The boy had found a part time job, but still only had enough to pay rent at the corner of a sinister neighborhood. His place consisted of a single room, and outside his door, he got used to hearing criminals roaming around when darkness arose. Yanjun barely had enough money for food, so a content livelihood was simply out of the question. His once strong and muscular body fell thin and emaciated. He allowed his mind to molder, and found that he had no motive in life anymore. 

Suddenly, he heard a voice beside him.  
"A drink for this young man, on me." It was a female's voice. Yanjun turned to the woman who had seated herself next to him at the bar. She had pounds of makeup over her face but he didn't miss the still protruding and obvious wrinkles. Her eyeliner was ungainly and thick, whereas her eyebrows couldn't get thinner. She had a mane of platinum blonde that looked unflatteringly withered from years of bleaching. The outfit she wore was vibrant and tight. Altogether, the boy thought she looked rather doltish. She looked to be nearing 50 years old. At minimum. 

"What's a young darling like yourself doing in an adult's place?" She asked, almost sultry, and he didn't miss how she touched his arm.  
Yanjun shrugged, too tired to give a damn.  
"Just found myself here I guess."  
"They let you in? I guess this place really is messy." She laughed, and the drink was handed to him. He didn't touch it. He hadn't had a sip of alcohol and yet his mind felt hazy. It did a lot lately.  
"Aw, baby, you look stressed." She feigned a concerned voice against his ear and began stroking his locks of hair.  
"I appreciate the drink, but I'm not in the mood for this." He stated, craning his head away. The woman smiled.  
"Me neither." She said and he felt her hand reach his thigh. Immediately, the boy grabbed her wrist and pushed her away.  
"Are you deaf!? I said I'm not in the mood!" He yelled as he stood from the chair. The woman looked taken aback, then angry. She stormed off, but not without cursing profusely at him first. Yanjun sighed, falling back into the chair. He let his head fall into his arms. 

Barely a minute had passed when another voice came. This time a man's.  
"Crazy lady huh."  
Yanjun looked up to the man, seated to his left. He gave Yanjun a gentle smile.  
"Tell me about it." The boy sighed as he rested his chin in his palm.  
"Man, you meet the weirdest people at these placed. I once came across a guy carrying around two chickens in the club, he asked me to pet his cocks."  
Yanjun looked wide eyed, until he realised the man was serious and let loose of a weak chuckle.  
"That's kind of hilarious."  
"At the time I was creeped out. Now I look back and laugh." The man said, and the twinkle in his eye looked genuinely kind.  
"She did have a point though, someone your age shouldn't be in a place like this. Your parents are probably worried for you this late at night."

Parents? Yanjun cringed at the statement. What parents.

"Trust me, they don't care." He groaned, and finally took a sip of the drink. It was bitter and he didn't like it at all. There was a long silence before the man spoke again.  
"Stressed out?" He asked.  
"Very."  
There was another pause.  
"You probably don't want to hear this, but I understand how you feel. When I was your age, I felt like that too. Bad homelife, no friends. I felt hopeless…

But then I found something that changed my life forever."

Yanjun eyed the other.  
"What was it?" He asked curiously.  
"I discovered something that nobody had discovered before. It saved me. But I needed to share it with the world. So I started a sort of family of my own, and group of strangers like me, like you- who come together and find peace."  
"A family…?" 

"Yeah. A family we like to call 'Mask.'" 

His mother.

That night, he decided to follow the man out of the club. That night, he put his hand into the man's and trusted him with his life. 

That night, he became a member of the cult named after himself. 

He left behind his old mask, and joined a new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been at frosh for the past few days and I'm starting my first day of school tomorrow and that's why it's been harder for me to update more frequently. It was especially hard for this one because it's a really long chapter. I actually had to cut down some stuff lol. And I didn't do a great job editing it (especially nearing the end) because I wanted to post today.. so I may go back and edit this a bit later. 
> 
> I've officially changed the rating of this fic to Mature. The reason I didn't have a rating before is because I was debating between the Teen and Mature rating. I still think this fic is appropriate for teens (me being a teen as well), but I think the themes can be triggering. 
> 
> Anyway since Yanjun's backstory is over the next chapter is gonna go back to the present day/main plot of the story again!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ziyi works at bringing Xukun back to health, questioning the cult's wrongdoings in his absence. Zhengting and Xukun try to resolve their unmoving tension and a new face joins the dance team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is there a Zikun drought in this fandom. I'm sad.

Ziyi took great responsibility in guiding Xukun back to health. This included cooking the younger large, nutritious meals, making sure he got enough sleep and, to Xukun's demise, the slow addition of exercise. Workouts and physical activity would not be so painfully arduous had he not been unconsciously and purposefully debilitated by his previous leader. The disguised hostility behind every step the cult took when handling Xukun was abysmal. The lack of food, rest and proper care resulted in the man finding himself pulled to a defective state upon his arrival at Ziyi's front door. However, with time, he was certain Xukun's invariably haggard state would drain. The elder noticed this immediately, and worked to nourish and handle the other with utmost care. He had an idea on how it would be done, as he had also helped himself in his own convalescence. However, as important as physical activity was, the man only began enforcing very small amounts of exercise two weeks into Xukun's arrival. For the first week, Ziyi decided he would focus on Xukun's scattered mental state, which he deemed to be in a far worse condition. 

Although the younger wouldn't admit it, he had been ripped apart in the mind. The wounds bled of malicious conditioning, cutting even deeper than any bodily damage. Ones that would need more than a simple bandage to fix. In addition to that, Ziyi quickly took note of the fact that Xukun was, unfortunately, remarkably apt to pining. His mental state fell and rose like a see-saw, and for awhile, it seemed that every time it rose, it would fall two more steps. So the older began reading about it, and learned that this was normal subsequent to his escape from a controlled life. Therapy, regrettably, was not an option. On many occasions Ziyi offered himself up as someone to express one's doubts and fears to. But Xukun relented, still unable to study those wounds. Preferring to bury them away and pretend they weren't there. The blonde was incredibly reticent about his personal scars. Ziyi understood.

In another attempt to help strengthen Xukun's weakened physique, Ziyi decided on taking the other on an early morning jog. In the beginnings of a sunrise, the streets were fairly deserted, which was much more comfortable for Xukun. Despite being much less vigilant of the people around him, the man still grew panicked when caught in crowds. Ziyi first realized when they found themselves stuck in a crowded bus a week prior. Immediately, the younger stuck himself against Ziyi. His face waned to a colour of ash and his breath sharpened. They got off three stops early, as the older feared that Xukun might faint or have a panic attack if he stayed any longer. Since then, the men stayed wary of congested areas and strayed from crowds. 

The boys returned from a fairly long run, muscles on fire. The beads of sweat weaved their way down every crevice of skin. They made their way into the bedroom and Xukun fell into Ziyi's bed, sinking into it. He flung an arm over his forehead as he panted.   
"Fuck this man, how do you do this every day?" He managed to sputter through puffs of short, hot breath.  
Ziyi stood next to the bed, gulping down a bottle of water. When half the bottle emptied, he spoke.  
"I like it, and I know that I'm taking care of my body and keeping myself healthy and active." 

Xukun blew a raspberry at him, and the childish nature of it made Ziyi chuckle.   
"God I can't believe you woke me up at 6:00am for this. I'm taking a nap." He decided as he settled himself onto the mattress, eyes fluttering closed. Ziyi shook his head.  
"You should always stretch after a workout. And drink some water bro, liquid barely touched your lips today. You'll get super dehydrated. Your body needs to be brought back to health right now more than ever."  
"I know, I know. You remind me every day."  
Xukun whined.   
"Because it's important, and if I don't remind you, I know you won't do it." The other replied as he tapped Xukun's lips with the end of the water bottle. The other pushed the container aside with the swat of a hand, craning his neck away in the process.   
"Yeah, well, if that ass leader didn't fuck me up then I wouldn't need to deal with all this." The blonde mumbled sourly. Ziyi stayed silent at that. Although the younger couldn't handle the mention of the cult several weeks ago, he had become accustomed to mentioning it once the distance felt large. However, though he broached it frequently, he never called it by its true name, narrowly avoiding mental seizure. Ziyi knew Xukun threw the comment half-jokingly, but every mention of the Mask hit him hard.

"I just want to look out for you, Kun." He stated, determined. Xukun opened an eye and his eyebrow rose.   
"Well that was...straightforward."  
"Because you looked a lot worse- when you showed at my door several weeks ago- a lot worse than the last time I saw you. You know, six months before that."   
"Did I?" He released a dry chuckle, "well, they had a go at me when you left."  
Ziyi felt his heart drop at the comment.  
"Why?" He croaked. Xukun shrugged.  
"Because you were the first one to leave that hell hole. Because you refused to give up your life for them. They felt threatened by you, Ziyi- by your example. And since you were closest with me, they were scared I'd do the same. That I'd follow in your footsteps." 

He noticed Ziyi's somber expression, and showed a small grin. "And damn, were they right." He added in an attempt to cheer the other up. It didn't.  
"So it's my fault they hurt you."   
Xukun sighed. "No. It's not your fault. Nothing is your fault, I wish you'd stop saying that."   
"I've never said it before today."  
"But you think it."

Ziyi stayed silent for a while after that. He couldn't help but remember the night he had left Mask. He had devised a plan to escape, and begged Xukun to join him. But the younger stayed, too terrified to flee from all he knew. To run towards the unknown. Hell had become a safe haven. Hell became familiar. So Ziyi left without him. Completely alone. Feeling a fringe of regret, he asked Xukun a question he had been wondering since the night he fled.

"What did they do when I left?"

Xukun kept an arm over his eyes- an attempt to hide his reaction to the inquiry. It failed, as Ziyi didn't miss the way the end of his mouth twitched and tensed at the question. He answered nonetheless.  
"They wanted information. They wanted control. And since I was closest with you, they went for me. You and I both know where that goes." Xukun turned to the side, leaning on his palm with his elbow against the pillow. He stared at Ziyi, who had seated himself at a desk near the bed. He looked at his lap, eyes lost in pensive thought. Xukun sighed.  
"Don't you dare blame yourself."   
"But if it weren't for me-"  
"If it weren't for you I'd still be there. Simple as that. Now are you gonna keep being depressed or force me to hydrate myself with 3 liters of water a day and drink these healthy protein shakes for breakfast. And don't even get me started on your crazy stack of disgusting vitamins."

Ziyi felt a smile prod at his lips. He got off the chair and stood over the blonde.  
"Your right. Get up, I have a special shake in mind today."   
Xukun let loose an exaggerated groan as he pushed himself deeper into the mattress.  
"Damn it- I can't believe I reminded you. You're lucky I hate seeing you depressed more than I hate your sour vitamins." The blonde scolded himself. He then turned around, face down on the pillow, wordlessly implying that he was adamant about staying. Ziyi laughed and reached for the end of his shirt, tugging it gently.  
"Come on, get up."   
"No thanks. I'm tired." The boy's voice spilled from the pillow, almost inaudible under the deep muffle.   
"Kun-" Ziyi said, and he began pulling on the other's arm instead. Just as Xukun started to peel from the warmth of the bed, he flipped himself around and grasped the other's wrist, pulling him down. Ziyi stumbled into the mattress, nearly crushing Xukun in the process. In a deft motion, he rolled himself to the side in order to prevent it from happening. 

"We've been doing your hobbies all morning. Now it's my turn to do what I want. And what I want is a nap." Xukun stated.  
"Your hobby is napping?"   
"This is a judgment free zone Mr. Healthy-Living."   
Ziyi sighed, but decided against fighting with the other over it. Instead he stayed, merely laying next to Xukun. The bed was small, and the feeling of the other's arm against his reminded him that Xukun's presence was not imaginary. Although his eyes stared at the ceiling, the feeling that the younger was with him, and _safe_ , sent a wave of relief to his head.

This relief came with the dismal reminder that Xukun was _not_ present several weeks ago. That he had been inhumanly manhandled when the elder had left. Witnessing the aftermath of the cult's harrowing ways was nothing short of upsetting. He felt a lump in his throat and shut his eyes. A few minutes passed before Xukun spoke.

"Don't worry about it."  
"I'm not."  
"You're a bad liar, by the way."   
"I can't help it Kun. I didn't want to leave you there- I just- I couldn't stay any longer."   
_"Ziyi"_  
Ziyi turned to look at the other.  
"You did everything you could. From planning to preparing to trying to convince me to join. It was my decision to stay at that time. And you had every right to run for your freedom."   
Ziyi nodded. "I'm just glad you came. I thought about it a lot after I left. I hoped...that you would."   
"Took me awhile but here I am. Did you start to miss me?" The blonde elbowed him lightly.  
"As if," Ziyi scoffed. Xukun eyed him, an impish smirk painted over his lips.   
"Alright, maybe a little. Or a lot." Ziyi admitted. And Xukun was content with that.

"It wasn't easy but...thank you." The younger said. Ziyi blinked, slightly bewildered at the thanks when he castigated himself for leaving without Xukun the first time. For not convincing the blonde, or- fuck it, forcing him to leave the living hell they were in.   
"I didn't do much." He uttered in response.   
"Excuse me? Who gave me the courage to escape? Who gave me the address and route to safety? Who took care of me when I returned a helpless wreck? Who is currently guiding me back to health? You're so frustrating sometimes. Just shut up and accept my gratitude." Xukun punched his arm playfully. 

Ziyi smiled in return. Their eyes swept over each other as they laid face to face on the warm surface. No other words were said, as it felt like enough were said already. And under the gentle hum of rhythmic breathing, they fell asleep within their cocoon of sporadic solace.

Xukun woke up before the other. And it was a slow awakening. At first, he simply kept his eyes shut, pulling the blanket over his shoulder and snuggling into the mattress. Then he realized, it wasn't a mattress. Caught between the clutches of sleep and reality, the blonde could only shift a little more, searching for where he was without pushing himself out of his comfortably drowsy state. The surface was familiarly warm, but it wasn't soft. It didn't feel like a cushion. A minute passed before his body began waking up, and Xukun finally gave in to opening his eyes. And it was only when he looked that he realized where he was. The blonde found himself tangled with Ziyi. His head resting just below the crook of the other's neck and his body glued against the other's. Instantly he felt himself retract. He wanted to do so quietly- stealthily, but in his need for rapid escape his hastiness turned against him, resulting in hitting his head against the headboard. 

"Ow! Fuck…" the man groaned as he rubbed his scalp. To Xukun's ruin, the loud bang woke the other. And unlike Xukun, Ziyi's eyes opened instantly. They stared at each other for a moment, one too groggy to react and the other too alarmed. Finally, Xukun's panic reached his vocal chords.  
"Sorry- I didn't actually think we'd fall asleep, it was supposed to be a joke. I didn't mean to- this wasn't supposed to happen." He stumbled on his words as he worked himself out of the tangle, this time it resulted in nearly falling off the bed.   
"No worries." The older assured nonchalantly as he sat up, though he frowned at the other, confused at his slightly erratic state. As his mind was still hazy and vision fogged from sleep, Ziyi blinked a few times to bring himself to reality. Meanwhile, Xukun felt his cheeks rise in heat. The lack of reply troubled the elder.  
"Kun, seriously, it's no big deal. Hey, I'm not that much of a health-schedule freak," and it was only in that moment he noticed the flush. "Why are you-"

He was cut off when Xukun threw a pillow against his face. 

"Whoever gets to the kitchen first decides what we're eating!" Xukun dared as he hopped off the mattress and rushed for the door, only for Ziyi to whip the pillow against his back and bolt after him. The words had left Xukun's lips unconsciously. A witty escape on his part, the man presumed. But it worked. Just as the blonde was about to reach the kitchen counter, he felt Ziyi wrap his arms around his waist and spin him back around. The action happened so rapidly that by the time the younger blinked and turned back, Ziyi was already leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest and cocky grin smeared over his face.   
"My pick." He said with oozing smugness.   
"You're a goddamn cheater." Xukun countered, pointing an accusing finger at Ziyi.   
"You didn't set any rules." Was the simple yet completely fair answer he got as the elder moved behind the counter and began taking out food. Undoubtedly healthy. Xukun sat across from him, staring at the other with the remainders of a smile.

Xukun decided that for now, at least, the relationship they had was enough.

***

Sunday rolled in and the the men prepared for their dance class once again. Yanjun had managed to oh-so casually imply that he wished to come along. And of course, Chaoze invited him to join with glee. In the day he had been there, he managed to avoid any conversation with Zhangjing exceeding a couple words. Yanjun didn't miss the despondent looks the smaller man gave him after every customary offhand comment. The younger worked to overlook them. It pushed him to hasten his plans, as he didn't know how long it would last, and wanted to wrap up his mission as quickly as possible. Zhangjing joining the equation was far from anticipated. It irked the other man, as Zhangjing always seemed to be the one to pull him out of his zone. 

Upon his arrival, Yanjun spent his first night recollecting the final moments he had spent with Zhangjing. Despite the passing of years, the quiet echoes of memories spluttered forward and grew intimidatingly vociferous. The nakedness of body and soul, the screams, the release of a raw and uncanny truth, the crippling fear that came with it. 

The kiss. 

The man clawed at his hair, his head screamed penitence but his heart stood on the verge of sentimentality. Ignoring the other? Not an option. Not while they lived under the same roof, at least. Not without setting off red flags in front of Chaoze, whom he needed as an ally for the time being. So the man decided upon avoidal. It seemed to be the safest option. 

Yanjun stood in the washroom several minutes before the time would come for him to face Xukun and Ziyi. He splashed his face with cold water, readying himself for his meeting with the two former members. He wouldn't admit it to anyone else, but he was nervous. He was nervous that showing up would make things worse. He was nervous that he would say something that would set them back. But above all that, he was nervous about not showing up and taking too long to complete his task. For being scolded by his leader. By his savior. For failing. 

He couldn't wait any longer. He needed to get a move on. 

He fished out his phone and immediately dialed for Wenjun. The other picked up almost instantly.   
"There?" Yanjun muttered low and throaty into the phone. No further explanation was needed.  
"I can see that he's on his way now. It's safe to say he's going to the group."   
"Good. Call me if he makes any sporadic changes in route."   
"Understood."   
There was a short pause and Yanjun heard himself question his leader's absence in their task since it's execution. Although he shoved it aside, it had been in the back of his mind for some time. In Mask, they were always watched. Always heard. Always seen. Never solitary. The sudden airy freedom of being alone in an enclosed room gave Yanjun chills. And without restraint, he questioned. 

"Have you heard from-"

He was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. The man's head snapped to the sound's origin. He scowled at himself in the mirror before speaking into the phone once more. This time it released even more subdued than the last time.  
"Hold on, I have to go." Yanjun said, his lips grazing against the speaker. He hung up without waiting for a reply.  
"Come in." He then added, louder. And the door opened, revealing a peeping Zhangjing.   
"Sorry, were you busy? I heard you talking…"  
"I was just on the phone with my colleague. You can use the washroom now." He stated coldly as he slipped past Zhangjing. He had meant for it to sound apathetic, but a lingering frost spilled over his chin. Maybe after all these years, he still had difficulty putting on a front when conversing with the elder. 

"Yanjun-" Zhangjing called as he spun around, but the other was already out, heading away at a slightly faster pace than normal.   
"Get ready fast, we're leaving soon." Was all he said before putting in an earbud and pretending to look for something within his duffle bag. Zhangjing sighed, a frown present over his forehead. 

"He's right Zhangjing, we're gonna be late." Chaoze sounded as he came out from his own room. The smaller man was already garbed in his dance attire and a near empty backpack hung loosely over his shoulders. Zhangjing's gaze flew from his step brother, to Yanjun. The taller didn't meet it. 

Soon enough, the three were out of the apartment and on their way towards the place Yanjun would finally encounter his victims. 

The time had finally come.

***

Everyone was present save for Yanjun, Zhangjing and Chaoze. Whilst the other members chattered between one another, Zhengting and Xukun found themselves grabbing props from the storage room. Both Yanchen and Zeren had suddenly wanted to try a dance with some 'special objects' to 'shake things up a little.' And somehow, Xukun and Zhengting ended up being paired together in the task. A mischievous idea of Zeren's to get them to 'talk things out', as he had worded it. Xukun wanted to throw up. 

They had both stayed quiet for the first several minutes, as the tension remained utterly suffocating, closing off any sort of friendly conversation. It seemed that the two had wordlessly decided that a thick quietude would suffice in getting Zeren's plan over with. This quietude was, haphazardly, broken by Xukun only a few minutes later.

The first word was uttered when Zhengting nearly fell from the large step stool while trying to reach something on the top shelf.   
"Careful-" Xukun said instinctively as he steadied the other on the ladder. Zhengting glowered back down at him, the deep aversion ever present and prospering. Xukun rolled his eyes.  
"You're welcome." He grumbled as he held the ladder in place for the brunette. Part of him yearned the wicked act of pulling it from under Zhengting's feet. He relented only when reflecting over what the others' reactions would be. Which, he gauged, would definitely be negative.   
"I don't need your help." Was all that came from the other's mouth.   
"Yeah? And when you fall on your ass who's gonna be the one to blame?" Xukun tried, the words leaving his lips with an equal amount of acidity. It seemed that the metallic taste always bubbled under tongues whenever the two found themselves together.  
"Nobody asked you to be here."  
"Actually, sweetheart, everybody wants me here _except_ for you." Xukun rebuked.   
"Don't act so cocky. We both know it's only because they don't know as much as I do." 

Xukun sighed. If he were to be honest with himself, the act was tough. He didn't _like_ Zhengting, per se, but he understood where the other's seethe originated from. He would be the first to admit how unpleasant their first meeting was. And it seemed that Zhengting couldn't help but be abundantly querulous over it.

"Look. Both of us aren't going anywhere so we may as well just, fuck, I don't know. Try to at least _stand_ each other?" Xukun forced through gritted teeth. Zhengting eyed him from above. He didn't speak until he climbed down, a box of props in hand.   
"Why do you want us to get along all of a sudden?" He queried. Xukun ran his fingers through his hair.  
"Shit, I don't know? Maybe because this" he gesticulated between them fervently, "is exhausting? And it's creating a crack in the team."  
"What would you know about the team? You've been here maybe- two months? Don't act like you know everything about team spirit when you sashayed inside _my_ dance group after _threatening_ me in the middle of the night."   
Suddenly, Xukun was offended.  
"I didn't threaten you!" He defended.   
"Indirectly. Yeah, you kinda did." Zhengting shot back, recalling the night he was so aggressively grabbed by the collar and told to keep his mouth shut. A shiver went down his spine at the memory alone.   
"Look, I'm _trying_ here." Xukun remarked. "I'm not exactly ecstatic about having to put up with you either." 

There was a moment of silence as Zhengting disregarded the blatantly offensive comment. He couldn't trust Xukun, that he knew for a fact. The wreck of their first meeting drilled blocks of doubt and concern into the older's head. He guarded himself from a potential friendship. 

Conversely, Zhengting knew that at least pretending to get along with the blonde would bring a sense of unity to the team. And as their leader, he felt responsible for that. A long sigh escaped him as he pondered over his conflicting thoughts.

"Crap…" 

Xukun looked up with desperate eyes when the other began to respond.  
"I'll put up with you. But that doesn't mean I like you now. I'm just saying I won't- I don't know- try to get you kicked off anymore. For the team's sake." Zhengting raised a menacing finger at the other. "And stop calling me sweetheart. It makes me want to puke."   
Xukun laughed at the final comment, throwing his head back.  
"Fine. And don't worry. I'm not looking to be all buddy-buddy with you either." He added. Truth be told, he would still be cautious around Zhengting, because he knew the other still questioned him. And as long as he was in question of his past, Xukun would leave up a brick wall of defense. At least now, though, he wouldn't have to deal with the constant negative tension. 

"I've been meaning to ask for awhile, but who fucked up your hair?" Zhengting asked as they returned to the room. The two shades of blonde and slightly crooked cut was more than noticeable. And revolting if not for the fact that it was actually quite humorous.  
"Ziyi." He replied simply.  
"Figures."   
Both chuckled. And Xukun thought that maybe, he would have no worries about the people around him anymore. Maybe, he wouldn't have to be overly wary about the individuals surrounding his life. That he could begin opening his arms to a new way of living. 

He was wrong.

For when the men walked back into the room, the blonde was met with a new face. One he recognized well, to his own dismay.

Lin Yanjun. 

The boy stood in the dance room with all the others. And suddenly, everything went out. The flicker of hope within him vanished. 

Xukun's heart dropped to the floor.

_'They found me.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NINE PERCENT ARE TOGETHER AGAIN- and that like.. never happens lmao. Also they're disbanding in a month. Alexa, play I Need A Doctor on repeat :( 
> 
> Nothing to do with npc but Melanie Martinez's new album K-12 is amazing and I love High School Sweethearts. 
> 
> I had something else to say but my brain is fried atm and I forgot what it was so I guess that's it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals with Yanjun's arrival in their own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The update is debatably bad but still an update nonetheless. 
> 
> May have had an episode a several minutes ago because I was editing it and there was a glitch on my phone and all my edits disappeared so I had to start over :D fun.

_"I guess I wanted to experience what it would be like to have a loving family but you two seem to have your own thing going on."_

_"This isn't a family, Yanjun. It never was." Xukun replied._

***

Xukun could only stare, eyes bulging and hands clammy. The world fell almost mute as the voices around him grew stifled under his own numbing. His body began to shut down in submission to his own conscious mind, for he quickly made an uncanny realization to the scene. 

If Lin Yanjun knew where he was, Mask did. 

He felt Zhengting put a hand over his shoulder. The brunette was talking, maybe asking if the other was alright- something about looking pale, something about needing to sit down- but Xukun couldn't tell. He really didn't care. He pulled himself away from the other, stumbling back with the aggression of a drunken man. He only just managed to catch himself against the door, giving it his entire weight. The doorknob- an escape- was what he searched for, and yet his entire body froze to a paralyzed state. And suddenly, all eyes were on him. The others spoke and moved and yet nothing occurred for everything seemed to be developing in slow motion. The world grew foggy and his vision petered to an amorphous, shadowy state. He blinked a few times, listening for anything, but the voices only grew lower and even more inaudible. Xukun felt the world fall. 

Then, he was grabbed tightly by the hand. Before the blonde could even react to the gesture, he was dragged out of the room. Everything fell back into place once the door closed behind them, sealing him away from the enemy. His vision returned. The world sped up. The sounds became crisp and clear once more. Finally, in a moment of momentous realization, the man cared to look in front of him, as it only now occurred to him that he was being led somewhere by someone. With a quick shift of the gaze, he came to realize it was Ziyi- to no real surprise. The elder guided Xukun out of the building, neither sputtering a word. 

Xukun found that despite his return of the senses, he couldn't control his body anymore. His mind remained in a state of profound shock, and it claimed power over him. The blonde was pulled onto a bus and directed to the very back. He was then steered to a seated position, Ziyi to his left. The near-empty vehicle began to turn its wheels and the gentle hum of the engine brought a relieving sense of distance from the other man. Lin Yanjun. 

Xukun glanced at the black haired male, who's eyes remained sharp and intense in emotion. He knew that Ziyi liked to pretend he was calm, probably for Xukun's sake. But the younger didn't fail to notice his shaking hands and drumming foot. It was as if his nerves had been set to maximal capacity and he couldn't seem to cease his endless fidgeting. 

Contrarily, the other could only stay eerily still. 

After a few minutes he was pulled off the bus and they headed straight for the apartment. Until that point, Xukun was still. He was motionless and numb and allowed for submission. This stature snapped in an instant, as it was only when Xukun layed eyes on the supposed "safe-haven" that his physical senses returned to him like a cold slap in the face. He yanked his hand from Ziyi's, eyes bloodshot. Ziyi spun around instantaneously.

"No. Not there." The blonde murmured.   
"What? Why not?"  
"Because...it's...you're a liar." Xukun sputtered back through a wavering voice, head shaking back and forth. Ziyi let his breath escape him, eyes darting down and fingers placed gently on the bridge of his nose. He looked to be trying to ground himself, desperate to construct a valid argument as to why the other should stay. But his own carking fear galled him and made it difficult to think straight. He released slow breaths, an attempt to steady himself. Xukun, on the other hand, breathed heavy breaths, letting the puffs of air materialize into cold bags of sorrow. They disappeared within the stillness surrounding him. The streets, after all, were still muffled under the neverending piling of snow. It reflected the scene he found himself trapped in on the day he showed up. It all came back to the snow, the apartment, and the pestering fear of Mask. 

After a moment, Ziyi shot his gaze back up, meeting Xukun's with ferocious adamance. It seemed that he could not bring himself to create a reason while tied with tight strings of panic. So he said it bluntly.  
"Let's go home." The other replied, and he tried to take the younger's hand again. Xukun stepped back, head shaking.   
"You said they wouldn't find us here! You said this place was safe!"  
"It was! At least, I thought it would be. Please, just try to underst-"  
"You said we could heal and find a new life here! _You_ said it! You _promised_ me! You're a _fucking_ liar Wang Ziyi!"   
"Kun, don't." The older warned, tone now low and ordering. He felt his fear and his rage link hands. The ticking of their release quickened. He reached for the other's hand again, this time his fingers grazed over it before Xukun pulled away, throwing the arm behind his back.

"Don't touch me!" He yelled, tears welled up in his eyes and yet none of them fell, leaving him glassy and morbid. And then Ziyi lost it. He grasped onto the other's shoulders, grip tight as ever. He leaned in close, eyes narrowed and yet the fear was ever present.   
"We don't have time for this right now. Do you think I knew about this? Do you think I'm not scared? Because I am. I'm scared shitless, Kun. You're not the only one." He muttered. But Xukun couldn't listen, mind clouded with the man he had wished to never lay eyes on again. In response he punched and pushed against the other's chest, finally freeing himself from the grip clawing at his shoulders. He stumbled back again, this time nearly tripping over himself. Ziyi snatched both of his wrists, stopping the man from his vigorous hits. Xukun squirmed under the grip. He seeked escape and attempted the attacks once more, but they quickly drew listless. All the while, he muttered the same words through eventual sobs. Flashes of the cult's heinous acts corroded his mind and he felt his flesh crawl at the thought of going back. 

"You liar! You fucking liar- you said! You told me I could- you promised!"   
"Listen to me!" The other hissed.  
In a fit of rage, torment, and a deep feeling of betrayal, Xukun screamed something he would come to regret. 

"I hate you, Ziyi! I hate you!" 

Ziyi's eyes widened at the statement and Xukun stopped fighting him off. The two men stared at each other, one's eyes showed pain while the other's were ablaze. Then, Ziyi's eyes narrowed again, the pain masked itself under a storm. His lips sealed themselves into a thin line.   
"Why is this _my_ fault?" He spat, words seething. "I went six months without any sign of them, then you show up and barely two months later here they are? Do you want me to believe that it was just a coincidence?"   
"Are you saying this happened because of me?" Xukun heard himself retort, scoffing.  
"Did you cover your tracks?"   
"I ran for my life!"  
"So did I! And I managed to do it without getting followed. If anything, you're the reason they're here! So why am I the one to blame? Maybe I should be the one screaming at you for a change!" 

There was another silence after that. Ziyi's grip loosened and Xukun pulled his wrists away, eyes on the mix of grime and snow beneath them. Ziyi sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Look, let's just- just go back to the apartment, Kun. We have nowhere else to go."  
He heard the other sniff, eyes still glued to the ground.   
"...they probably know where we live…" he whispered so quietly it was barely audible. Ziyi groaned at the comment.  
"Where else do we go then- huh!? We don't have money for a hotel, because _you_ couldn't get a job! Whereas I've been working my ass off to get food on the table! We can't even sleep outside like the homeless, it's the middle of winter!" Ziyi spat as his stress reached his throat. He didn't want to yell and blame the other, but panic tended to pull people to a level they never wanted to be near. Fear is dangerously- and cunningly, powerful. Xukun didn't reply, body limp. Ziyi frowned.   
"Shit…" he cursed under his breath, "I didn't- I didn't mean that- just. Please come home with me. Please." 

The final word released pleading, weak and almost asking- like a child's. There was a long silence that followed. Then, a small, almost imperceptible nod. They accepted their fates, and returned to the place they once called their safety. 

***

A silence overtook the dance room at the sudden leave of two of their members. Confusion dazed the men into a soundless state. Their eyes froze onto the unmoving door in which the two vanished behind moments earlier. It was broken by Zhengting a few moments later.

"What the hell was that?"

The other five present in the room only offered small shrugs and incomprehensible mutters of confusion at the question.   
"They were looking at Yanjun, weren't they?" Yanchen sounded from the back of the room, eyes peeled on the newcomer. And there came a glint of suspicion in those grey orbs of his. Yanjun stiffened. He had gotten a quick introduction before Xukun walked in, offering the other's his name, his relationship with Chaoze and Zhangjing, and his made up reason for being present in the city. The blonde and leader barged in just as his establishment concluded.

"Have you met them before?" Zhengting questioned, eyebrow arched.   
Yanjun let his gaze linger over the other five, all eyes were glued onto him.   
_Shit, shit, shit. Think, you moron. Fast._  
"Uh- yeah. We… went to the same school in senior year of high school- the school I attended after leaving Chaoze and Zhangjing's" he cleared his throat, and the small nods around him gave him a sudden surge of confidence in his lies.  
"We had some small quarrels back then I guess. Nothing serious, anyway. Maybe they were just surprised to see me." He shrugged.   
"Man, small world." Zeren evoked. And everyone seemed content with the story.

Save for Yanchen. 

When the class ended, the black haired male pulled Zeren to the side.   
"What's up?" The smaller asked.  
"What do you think of Yanjun?"  
"Uhh...he's hot? Somehow knows everyone? A fairly good dancer? What do you want me to say, I met him two hours ago."   
"No- I mean. I don't know. Ziyi went _pale_ when he walked in. Like, I legitimately thought he would pass out. And Xukun looked dead scared too. I don't know what these 'small high school quarrels' are, but I have a feeling there's more to it." He bit his lip, glancing over at the other four, who all prattled and talked amongst themselves on the other side of the room.

"I didn't really notice, honestly. But he seems like a nice enough guy. Cracked a shitty pun at me at one point during the class. Sent me mad old man vibes but I don't get a weird feeling."   
"I don't know...maybe I'm just being too suspicious." Yanchen admitted. Upon noticing the taller's despondent look and low sigh, Zeren pulled his brows into a frown. The other was undoubtedly serious about the matter.  
"Look, we'll see how they react next class, or maybe get together with them during the week. Ask them about it. Sound like a plan?" Zeren offered with a comforting hand on the other's shoulder. Yanchen gave a small nod at the affirmative smile. 

As they left the studio, Zeren looked back at Zhengting with a sly smile.  
"How'd it go with Xukun? Did you two 'talk things out'?" He called. And before Zhengting could eradicate him, he left the room with Yanchen. 

It left the other four alone.

"That idiot." Zhengting muttered with a shaking head.   
"Maybe that's why Xukun was pale when he walked in. The poor soul was stuck alone with Zhengting for more than two minu- OW!" Chaoze rubbed his arm where Zhengting had just slapped it.  
"Haha. Very funny." The man spat mirthlessly. Zhangjing snickered. Meanwhile, Yanjun's thoughts snapped at the notion. The tedious, repetitive conversation he had previously been carrying out began to shed it's skin. It revealed what he had been patiently waiting for. He was going to accumulate some interesting information. 

"Do you not get along with Xukun?" Yanjun suddenly inquired.   
"I mean, no, not really." The brunette replied with crossed arms. The slip of bitter taste within the words sparked Yanjun's interest once more. They were getting somewhere.  
"Do you mind if I ask why?"   
"Because he thinks Xukun is dangerous." Chaoze cut in before the other could speak. Zhengting shot him a look, but eventually nodded at the statement. He was not one to deny his hatred for the other.   
"How do you even know?" The brunette asked the smaller, as he only ever recalled mentioning the fact of his feelings to Ziyi and Zhangjing.  
"He told me." Chaoze replied, finger pointed at his step-brother. Zhangjing's mouth flew open in disbelief. Zhengting sighed, but the twitch in his brow sent the two men flying away.  
"I'm gonna put away the props before 'Ting kills me, Zhangjing?" Chaoze sounded. The mentioned immediately nodded vigorously and scurried out of the room with the other as rapidly as they could. 

Yanjun and Zhengting were left alone. Immediately, the older turned to the brunette. 

"Why do you think he's dangerous?" He asked, and there was a hint of urgency in the question. Zhengting eyed him.  
"It doesn't matter. Nobody believes me anyway." He answered.   
"I would. I-" Yanjun hesitated, and in his need to know what Zhengting thought, he created a story that would gain the other's trust.  
"He gave me that vibe too. When we went to school together."   
Zhengting's eyes lit up.  
"Really? You think so too?"   
Yanjun nodded. 

Zhengting opened his mouth, then retracted for a moment, hesitant on revealing his theory. But he quickly gave in. Yanjun was the first person to believe him after months of relentless effort. It galvanized him into action. And after a mere moment of consideration, he gave into his prompts.

"Honestly, I think he's involved in some really dangerous group or something." 

Yanjun flinched at the comment. _Does this guy know about Mask?_ He wondered.   
"Really? I thought the same thing. What kind of group are you thinking of...?" He asked.  
Zhengting sighed, eyes on the floor. "I don't know." He looked at Yanjun again. "But you believe me? For real?"  
"No doubt." The other said. And he knew he had Zhengting between his fingers when he saw the respite in the other's eyes. 

He had forgotten how easy it was to fool people. To get them to trust in such a short period of time. Lin Yanjun really was the mastermind in manipulation. He knew that he would become close with the other. That he was going to become the poor man's ideal until his use would come to its lamentable end. Zhengting may have figured out too much already.

Then the other two returned.   
"Are you ready to get going, Yanjun?" Chaoze asked as he grabbed his bag.   
"Yeah." The other turned to Zhengting with a consoling grin. "It was nice meeting you Zhengting, I'm sure we'll get along really well."   
The other returned the smile and comment.

"So you three live together now, huh." He added. "Must be crowded."  
"Yeah, he has to use our pull out couch- Oh." Zhangjing said, covering his mouth with his hand. Suddenly, he remembered how he had offered it to Zhengting before. He knew that the brunette had still not found a new roommate, and was on the verge of living on the streets.   
"It's fine." Zhengting replied softly, but they didn't miss the shortness in the comment.  
"Has he still not found a roommate?" Chaoze asked, eyebrows drawn together. The lack of reply quickly became all the reply they needed. There was a moment of unsure, pitiful silence. Zhengting cut through it.   
"I'm sure someone will turn up soon." He remarked, shoving some things inside his bag. But there came no inkling of hope within the words, and the sudden shortfall of eye contact made the other two men uneasy. Yanjun, however, saw it as an opportunity bestowed upon him by the gods. It was just _too perfect._ And he struggled to hide a smirk. Zhengting was undeniably the easiest target of the bunch, proved through the near effortless pulls he took to manipulate things to his own advantage. 

"Are you looking for a roommate?" Yanjun asked.   
"...yeah."   
"I have a friend who's looking to share a place for awhile, the one doing the workshop with me." He offered. Zhengting's head snapped up.  
"Really? Here? He's looking for a place? Now? To room?" He asked all at once. Yanjun nodded.  
"Yeah, he's really desperate. I know you two haven't met yet, but if you're in a tight spot I think it'll be a good opportunity."   
"Yes! Yes- it would." Zhengting said, voice pitching in excitement. He suddenly felt a load of stress tumble off his shoulders and clasped his hands together in delight.  
"Great! He's a nice guy, I'm certain the two of you will get along." 

Zhengting squeaked, feeling at once that Yanjun really was a gift sent to bring him out of his turmoil. It would not occur to him for some time that the man was actually a demon concealed behind a mask.

"That's perfect! What's his name?" The brunette asked. 

"Wenjun. Bi Wenjun."

***

"There's someone else. Someone who knows more than he should." Yanjun spoke lowly against the phone. His leader breathed on the other end. Finally, the man had called for an update after a prolonged period of voicelessness. Yanjun had stepped outside of the apartment to take the call, this one too important to do in a bathroom. "But I'm keeping an eye on him. So will Wenjun." He added.  
"Good. Get Wenjun to update you regularly. If you think he knows too much, bring him here."  
"Understood."   
"What is this man called?"

"His name is Zhu Zhengting." 

"Zhengting…" the man rolled the name in his tongue for awhile. "I guess he'll have to join us, then. Bring him back with Ziyi and Xukun. Lest our family fall apart if you do not succeed." 

The call finished with an urgency to hasten their plans. It was taking too long. The progress was too slow. The comments were sharp and demanding, and Yanjun felt himself deteriorate. He didn't want to fail. 

Just as he hung up, he heard another voice.

"It's chilly outside...I made some hot soup if you want any. Are you coming back in?" 

You Zhangjing. Yanjun let a long breath exhale from his nostrils, closing his eyes. 

"Yeah. I was just making an important call. I'm coming back now." He said coldly, and turned around, walking briskly past the smaller. Zhangjing spun around once he was passed.  
"Wait!" He called, louder than he intended but it did it's job in causing Yanjun to halt his tracks.  
"Why are you being so cold to me?" He asked. "I'm tired of waiting for you to let me speak with you. Do you need me to force it out? I haven't seen you in so long, Yanjun. Do you know how worried I was? You never even said goodbye. You just disappeared after that night with a short message to Chaoze. I didn't know what to do- if you had gone to get help or if you were sent away. I couldn't stop thinking about-" 

"Let's not." Yanjun said, finally turning back around. He faced the other and yet he seemed to be looking _past_ him rather than _at_ him. As if Zhangjing were invisible. "Let's not do this."   
"Why not?" The smaller shot back, vexed.   
"Because maybe I don't want to talk about it. Okay? Stop making this about you."   
"I-I just want some closure!"   
"I gave it to you. I went to a private school for my basketball career, and now I'm studying business in university. What else do you want to know?" He said with gritted teeth.   
"I don't know. But not that. Don't give me that bullshit."  
"You're bullshit." Yanjun returned. And Zhangjing had had enough.

"No you are! You're bullshit Lin Yanjun! I've never met someone so confusing! You tell me you want to be friends, and we become so close! I genuinely felt like we had become- I don't know- something bigger! And then when I found out about- about the abuse you went haywire and started screaming at me and I didn't know what was going on! All I wanted was for you to be safe! And then out of nowhere you _kissed_ me! And then you disappear forever! It's been _years_ Yanjun! What do you expect from me? That I act like we were simple acquaintances in school? That I pretend nothing ever happened? That I go on without pondering over whether or not you had died or gotten hurt because I never heard from you again since that night! Do you know how guilty I felt for not speaking up about what I witnessed? For being the only one who knew? But I was stupid enough to think I was keeping your final wish from me. I prayed that you had actually gone to a better place. But I could never be sure. And you think telling me you're a business major at a faraway university is enough to get me to settle down! Are you crazy?! This is BULLSHIT!" 

There was a long silence when Zhangjing had finished pouring his heart out. The once gentle fragments of cotton-like snow froze into a vicious hail. The innocence vanished and bore a new relationship. One that was complex, unsure, and wavering. The hail melted onto their heads, running frozen water down their faces. It crept into their necks and under their clothes. Until bare skin met chilling fire. Yanjun felt his own frozen tears begin to burn under the fiery vision of the man who changed everything. The sight of the smaller drenched, shivering and knowing of secrets was too familiar for any sense of comfort. It was the same as the night he ran, and he grew fearfully nervous of Zhangjing sending him off his norm once again.

Yanjun knew he needed to run. To recollect his thoughts and reasons for his own escape, as well as his return. He needed to be away from the fire of You Zhangjing. He wanted to bury himself in his own frozen wasteland. 

"I'm sorry." Yanjun evoked.  
"What?"  
"I said I'm sorry. For confusing you...it was my mistake."   
"That's not what I-"  
"I'm going for a walk. I'm tired. Please don't follow me." He said, withered away. 

His gaze fell to the ground, and he left for the empty road, leaving Zhangjing all alone once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Zhangjing! (Though I'm a bit late). Have you guys seen his reaction to npc's birthday wishes to him? He's so precious I'm sOFT for this boy <3333


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanchen and Zeren get suspicious. Meanwhile, Xukun and Ziyi figure out how they've been found and Yanjun is feeling some type of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: there is a mention of being drugged in this chapter. 
> 
> This is hands down the fastest I've ever updated this fic. It's been less than three days since my last chapter was put out and I'm kinda proud of myself? Usually I struggle to get it out within a week but I spent 90% of my day writing yesterday and basically wrote and edited it all in one or two days. Crazy man. Not to mention this chapter is one of my longer ones. 
> 
> Don't expect it to happen again tho lmao I'm slow.

_Xukun stumbled through the abandoned hotel, feeling bilious and dazed. The forsaken venue was otherwise known and Mask's headquarters, or as the leader would call it: Home. As every member of the cult settled themselves within the structure when they first joined._

_It was situated at the end of a broken road that led to nowhere. Before the building, there was a long, empty street made of crumbled cobblestone. Untouched for many decades, the remote piece of land remained in a languished state. Beyond the pebbled path, a forest of faded virescent layed. Wilted petals and sallow appearing leaves decorated the entrance of the woods. Most of the time it stilled, but there came intermittent days when howls and belows would emerge from the mass of neglected verdant. It gave the creeping sense that potential escape would only leave for an end that was even more parlous. Sometimes, the followers swore they heard the shrieks and cries of a human soul. But that rumor was shut down the second it arised. The building itself was derelict and long deserted before Mask's arrival, after all. It was so precarious that the left half had collapsed into itself, causing old bricks and cement to cascade down the side and fall at the feet of that woods._

_Xukun held himself against a wall. The ancient wallpaper adopted a leaden taint that he guessed may have been more of a pleasant colour back when the hotel was still in use. Sometimes he mused over the idea of its original purpose, and began to feel sick at what it had become. He considered the fact that the hotel deteriorated precisely because it took on the state of the souls that lived within. Thinning paper constantly peeled off the walls in such revolting nature, and revealed holes occupied by an unfathomable number of cockroaches and beetles of all sorts. The shadows cast by the doors of every room extended and morphed themselves to long, threatening pictures. He held his pounding head and he pushed himself closer against the wall, a feeble attempt at grounding himself. In spite of this venture, stabilization was not something in his control anymore, and the man slipped down to a seated position. He grunted and rubbed his hammering temples._

_Then, a figure emerged from the shadows._

_"Not feeling well?" Lin Yanjun asked, and yet the question left his lips all too knowingly to be taken innocently. Xukun's gaze sharpened._  
"What did you do to me?" He demanded.  
At first, there was no reply. The man simply stared down at a struggling Xukun. The blonde began twitching and twisting in a strive for help. After a moment of merely watching the scene unfold, the elder acquiesced to admitting his involvement in Xukun's state. 

_"I did what I had to. Ziyi betrayed us. We can't risk it again, not with you two and your little plans. It always came down to the two of you." He said before letting loose of a scoffing chuckle. "I guess I wanted to experience what it would be like to have a loving family but you two seem to have your own thing going on."_

_Xukun knew he referred to himself and Ziyi. But Ziyi had left- runaway months ago. He had gone against the cult, and been the first to do so. Despite primarily mourning over the loss of his closest friend, Xukun quickly grew deviant and angry. He began to rebel from the cult. He opened his mind and realized just how much of a masked hell the painted heaven turned out to be. He locked eyes with the other, holding a piercing gaze that was all too courageous for anyone else's liking._  
"This isn't a family, Yanjun. It never was." Xukun replied just before he began thrashing his body in a desperate attempt to grasp command over it. Yanjun ignored the other's statement. The eyes of his mind grew dark and faded under false love. He narrowed them as he spectated the suffering man below him.  
"Your deviance will only bring you more pain, dear Xukun." 

_Xukun released a purposefully loud and mocking laughter at the statement.  
"You're being brainwashed! Can't you see?! We're in hell!" He exclaimed before he found himself grunting at the sudden feeling of having near no control over his body. His muscles went slack, and suddenly, he felt trickling fear run up his spine. He felt himself fall insensate, and it scared him greatly._

_"What the f-fuck kind of d-drug- Yanjun-" His words began to slur under the influence, and Xukun struggled to keep himself conscious. His body felt numb and his vision petered. He tried getting to his feet, but he only stumbled over himself again. Suddenly, more shadows leered over him. There were several but he couldn't count exactly how many, or who they were as their faces blurred and warped themselves to mush under his foggy vision. The sickly yellow light from the held bulb above came forth and he retracted. He could vaguely make out the voice of his leader, which boomed over the others'. Although as hard as he tried, he couldn't make out any of said words. He was then taken into Yanjun's arms and carried away. Next to him, he caught a glimpse of the man was introduced to only several weeks prior. Bi Wenjun. The taller gave him an unsure expression before Xukun felt the world go black._

***

_'Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system, please-'_

With the click of a button the phone was stopped from the automated voice Yanchen became all too familiar with over the past several hours. He sat on the end of his bed, dark cloud over his eyes. He had been trying to reach Ziyi and Xukun since the night they left, and yet neither of them answered their phones. Texting was equally futile, and the man's suspicions only grew at their unwillingness to speak. At their uncanny silence. At Lin Yanjun. It all seemed like too much of a coincidence to him. That Xukun and Ziyi were always so secretive about their past and their personal lives. Zhengting's adamance about being untrustworthy towards Xukun. That soon after Xukun's arrival there came a man from that reticent past. And, above all, their initial, raw reactions to the scene. 

Something bigger was stirring inside the dance group, and only an idiot would fail to notice all the signs. Finally, Yanchen had enough of being passive.

He stood and headed for the door. If they wouldn't accept his pleas in calls, he would have to be forceful instead. The man snatched his coat from the hanger and pulled the fabric over himself. Just as he went for the doorknob, Zeren turned from the stove where he had been cooking dinner for the two of them.  
"Where are you going? Hey- Yanchen!" The younger jogged over to the other.  
"Ziyi's." He said flatly, and just as he grabbed the doorknob, Zeren put a hand over his shoulder and spun him around.  
"Yanchen, you can't."  
"I have to! Neither of them are answering my calls! I know I'm being nosy but I need to check on-"  
"Where do they live?"  
There was a pause.  
"What's their address? Do you even know? Because I don't. I don't remember either of them ever mentioning a thing about where they live. Do you?" Zeren continued.  
Yanchen bit his lip. It only just occurred to him that he had absolutely no idea where the other two resided. He hadn't realized just how little they revealed about themselves until the time came to utilize that information. He sighed, his shoulders fell forward and he shifted his gaze to his phone again. For a moment, it seemed that he could do nothing but wait. 

Then, it occurred to him that it didn't matter, as he had another man he wanted to speak to anyway. 

"I may not know where Ziyi and Xukun live, but I do know where Zhangjing and Chaoze do."  
"Why do you want to visit them?" Zeren queried with a single, arched eyebrow. Yanchen gave him a serious look, eyes piercing and unwavering.  
"Because Yanjun lives with them."  
Zeren raised his brows at first but quickly nodded. He grabbed his own leather jacket from the closet before giving the man his reply.  
"Fine, but I'm coming along."

They fled to find the other, with dissatisfying results once more. 

"You're looking for Yanjun? Join the club. He hasn't been home since last night, Zhangjing was looking for him for hours last night but nothing. He isn't answering his phone either. If you see him, please let us know." Chaoze answered when they had asked to speak with Yanjun. 

Yanchen and Zeren exchanged looks. A wordless agreement came, one that said something bigger was being hidden from them. And it all revolved around the newcomers and their personal relations. 

***

Neither Ziyi nor Xukun spoke a word to each other since that night. They returned to their normal schedules, and yet both grew equally nervous. It seemed that the tenuous healing they had been working to hold with such diligence had been shattered. Its once captivating and harmonious qualities melted to constant misgivings about their future. They sat in quiet perturbation, knowing that in their current position they couldn't go anywhere. They understood that at any second they could be brought back to a life free of liberty and mindfulness. A life of indoctrination and control. One that would be even worse than they had left it, because they would be under constant watch subsequent to their first escape. Every second felt like their last taste of freedom. As such, the men unconsciously returned to step one.

Ziyi checked the news. Xukun watched the door. 

Ziyi spent the majority of his time pondering over how they could have possibly found them. Especially after so much time away, it didn't add up. He recalled every moment since arriving, trying to find a slip up or a mistake that led to their finding. It was only a day later that it occurred to him. 

"Xukun!" He called, storming out of his room. The other glanced up at him from where he was laying on the couch. He stayed there a lot recently. It was near the door so he could have a perfect view of the moment Mask walked in. The moment his freedom would end like all pleasantries seemed to. And he would be lying on the couch, like a puppet on its pedestal patiently waiting to be reattached to its severed cords. He didn't reply when the other called him, only giving the man a tired look. Sleep had passed the younger the night before, leaving him highly inert. His sudden lack of appetite didn't help either. Ziyi grabbed him by the arm and hoisted the blonde to his feet. 

"What the- hey!" Xukun exclaimed when he was spun around so that his back faced Ziyi.  
"Your ear. Is the thing- is it still there?" The other said, grabbing the blonde by his ear and bringing it close to his own face.  
"Ow!- Ziyi- what?"  
"The- the black piece- your ear- I saw it last time- I noticed- the haircut, Kun, remember the haircut- I saw it! You said- said something about dirt- but it's still there!"  
"Slow down! I have no idea what you're saying!" The other exclaimed as he tried to spin around again. This time he managed, coming face to face with a disheveled Ziyi. It seemed that the other was also dealing with the news in a pernicious way. The other took a moment to catch his breath before delving in once again.

"When I was cutting your hair a few weeks ago, I noticed a black piece stuck on the back of your left earlobe. It wasn't on the right one and I couldn't scratch it off. Remember? We- I didn't put much thought into it but I suddenly remembered. And Kun, it's still there."  
Xukun thought for a moment, slowly taking in all the information that was being thrown at him. Ziyi continued nevertheless.  
"I know it wasn't there when I left you with Mask, and you didn't know about it either, despite it being _pierced_ inside your ear. It's not like you couldn't know about this either, unless it was handled…in a certain forceful manner. And it's only on one side. Why is that? This is isn't normal."  
"Ziyi…"  
"I've been thinking about what it was for awhile, but it only just occurred to me. Considering your relationship with the leader- I mean, you were part of Mask since childhood, right? He did seem to favour you at times. He- he wanted you to stay more than anyone! And you told me that after I left he was afraid you would follow in my footsteps, that he took every precaution. That he thought I set an example for you. That he kept an eye on you. Right?" He gave Xukun a pitiful look as he went on.

"Where are you getting at…" Xukun murmured, feeling the trepidation reach his lungs.  
"Don't you find it weird that they didn't immediately go after you? When I left I had the perfect opportunity- it wouldn't have come up again. And since I was the first, it was unexpected. You said you just ran but- it couldn't have been that simple." He paused for a moment. "What if it was placed there for a reason, like a tracker or- or a chip to listen in on things. I don't know I just- is it really a coincidence that they're here so soon after you came?" 

Immediately, Xukun's hand shot up to his ear. He felt for it, tried scratching and pulling the piece. It didn't move.  
"The thing is- nobody in Mask had that sort of equipment. It's too expensive for them- too hard to get ahold of. We lived in an abandoned venue for Christ's sake- they have no money. They never had access to fancy gadgets, so I don't see how they could have gotten their hands on it. That's what I don't understand, and why I didn't pay too much attention to it before- I-"  
"No- no they did. They do. They have access to it, oh my god." Xukun replied, his voice finally rose, quickly shifting to an erratic state.  
"What?" Ziyi's brows furrowed. "How? Since when?"

"A new guy- he only joined after you left. Maybe- maybe two or three months after you escaped? I don't know, I didn't get too close to him but I knew he was proficient in things like programming, hacking and tracking- he got caught up in some illegal shit before joining. He- he had some equipment with him- oh my god." Xukun kept touching his ear, feeling for the foreign object. "Wenjun. That was his name. But he was still in the stages of being coaxed into the cult. And Yanjun- he can't- he's not skilled in this kind of thing. And as far as we can tell, he's the one carrying this out, right?"

Ziyi bit his lip, choosing to express the next words carefully.  
"Kun, before you came in, Yanjun mentioned being here with someone else..." Ziyi felt his hands go cold. Xukun's eyes bulged.  
"What? Who? Did he say a name? Fucking hell Ziyi! Why didn't you tell me this before?!"  
"We weren't exactly on speaking terms for the last several hours! And I thought it didn't make a difference if Yanjun was alone or with someone else. Mask is in contact with him anyway so they all know! Besides, I didn't even know this Wenjun guy existed until now!" Ziyi shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "But I did assume it had to be someone from Mask...and now that you mention the new recruiter...it seems like he's carrying this out as well." 

There was another silence before Xukun started shaking his head back and forth, taking a step back.  
"No but- I wouldn't have let them do this to me…I wouldn't have let them." He muttered, having no memory of ever receiving it implanted. And with the definite pain that is adjoined with an implant, there was no way he couldn't have known.  
"But we both know they would have found a way...with whatever means necessary. It could have been forceful, Kun, remember that." Ziyi placed a hand over the other's arm and rubbed it consolingly. "Can you remember anything?" He asked. 

Xukun shut his eyes and reached for his time in Mask subsequent to Ziyi's leave. He knew that he had many suppressed memories of the cult, and for the first time since arriving at Ziyi's front door, he deliberately looked back on them. Instantly, he felt his mind pain. There came whispers of old memories like blurry paths. Stumbling, falling. A yellow light. Grim shadows. He came face to face with the cold looking man. Lin Yanjun.  
_"I guess I wanted to experience what it would be like to have a loving family but you two seem to have your own thing going on."_  
"This isn't a family, Yanjun. It never was." Xukun replied.  
"Your deviance will only bring you more pain, dear Xukun."  
Brief flashes came. Being carried by Yanjun. The sporadic voices of others- his leader's being the most overwhelming. The face of Bi Wenjun. But somehow, the rest fell blank.

Xukun swallowed hard.  
"I think I was drugged." He admitted flatly, unable to face Ziyi anymore. Although he still felt the other man's jaw drop at the statement. Xukun felt an overwhelming sensation of culpability. They were found, both of them, and it was because of him. Ziyi was right to yell at him the night before. In the end, the elder may lose the freedom he built for himself and for the blonde because Xukun had been so reckless. Because Xukun was too afraid to leave the first time. Because he grew selfish and hungry for escape after seeing how successful Ziyi's was. Because his leave wasn't carefully planned and constructed like Ziyi's but rather precipitous. How that led to their demise. "And now they know where we are." Xukun finished with brooding eyes. 

There was a moment of dreadful silence before the younger took yet another impulsive action.

Xukun left for the kitchen and took out a large knife from the drawer.  
"What are you doing?!" Ziyi exclaimed.  
"Cut it out."  
"What?"  
"Cut the tracker out. It's my earlobe, it won't be detrimental."  
"Are you serious?"  
"If you won't do it then I will." Xukun spoke softly but there was a slight harebrained pitch that sent shivers down Ziyi's spine.  
"Don't be rash-" The elder remarked.  
But there was no reply. Immediately Xukun left for the washroom, faced the mirror and brought it to his ear. The elder ran after him.  
"Don't!" Ziyi grasped his forearm and brought it down. The other sent a threatening gaze. 

"It's my decision!" Xukun yelled, and Ziyi suddenly stood still. Part of him agreed with the act, the other didn't want to impose any physical pain on the other. Xukun already had enough scars. He battled with his own temperament.  
"You'll get hurt! They already know anyway- what's the point?!" Ziyi returned.  
"The point? It's inside _me_ , Ziyi, so _I_ get to decide what I do with it! And I want it out!...So they can't find me anymore." He said, on the verge of panic once again. "I just- I _need_ to get it out. I feel like-" he glanced around himself, shuddering. His wide, darting eyes, stiffened body and trembling lip was all that was needed to finish his remark. They needed to be cautious, yes, but cutting out the tracker symbolized their continuous defiance against Mask. There was a moment of silent consideration.

They decided on pulling through the act. 

A few minutes later Xukun was sitting back on the stool in the washroom. Though this time, instead of hair equipment, Ziyi was with a medical kit, treating the injury as best he could. The elder had ended up being the one to do carve the piece from his ear. They agreed on this as it was situated behind his ear, and Xukun wouldn't be able to have a good idea as to where he was aiming. Carefully, it was cut out, leaving the other's lower ear dismantled and bloody. The vermilion liquid that released was far more than expected, but Xukun had been good about stifling any surfacing sounds of pain, because he knew how it would affect Ziyi's performance. After a few silent moments of attempted treatment, Ziyi spoke. 

"You know, Zhengting is pretty good at this stuff, if you want him to-"  
"And get him to question why I cut my own ear to begin with? Yeah, no way. I finally got him to _sort of_ accept my presence, I don't need him questioning me again." Xukun immediately cut in. It was painful, but somehow, despite the enemy already knowing where they lived, the fact that he wasn't being followed anymore gave him a great sense of relief. 

The men took every precaution. If they were going to strive for the path of physical pain, they would make sure it was worth while. As such, before cutting out the tracker, Xukun had stripped from all of his clothing. He performed a thorough check on his naked body to see if there was another one placed anywhere else. He got Ziyi to double and triple check anywhere he may have missed. They checked until every inch of bare skin had been studied numerous times, and both concurred he was clear of trackers aside from the one on his ear. When they finished, Ziyi began to clean up. 

"I know it sounds crazy...and impossible, but now that they can't find us anymore...we should move out. Run away somewhere." Xukun murmured. Ziyi stopped his stowing. He sighed before giving the other his own morbidly accurate answer. 

"If a miracle comes up and we somehow get out of this mess with our freedom in our hands, and you know, we're still _alive_ , I'd be more than happy to." 

***

Yanjun decided it would be time to return to Chaoze and Zhangjing's house. As much as he was scared to face Zhangjing, he knew that time was running out. He had decided to spend the night with Wenjun back at the hotel after his argument with the smaller, and ignored every call he received. It was a stupid move on his part, he knew, because now he would have to explain himself again. He consoled himself by reminding himself that he was proficient in story telling anyway. And that he would have to return either way, as even if he wanted to stay with Wenjun, the other man had already resigned from the room. That night, Wenjun would begin rooming with Zhu Zhengting. 

"Alright, I'll leave first. You sign out. And don't forget your job." Yanjun muttered as he threw his bag over his shoulder and headed out the door.  
"I know, I get Zhengting to trust me. Convince him to join us." Wenjun repeated his instructions for the nth time since Yanjun had arrived. 

Yanjun nodded before he slipped out the door and left for the home he would be staying in until his mission came to its end. He mostly wished it would end sooner than later. But another small, buried part of himself fancied being around his old friends. The man would be lying to himself if he said he never wondered about them after his spontaneous disappearance. If he said he never spent restless nights reminiscing over the memories they shared. If he said there never came days when he missed it: Zhangjing, Chaoze, his home- hell, even his father. Even his image at times, because it was all he knew. He pushed it behind him, and it eventually drowned under the relations he received through Mask. 

When he knocked on the door, Chaoze answered almost instantly with widened eyes.  
"Yanjun! Where the hell were you?!" He yelled. The taller retracted, startled at the sudden raise in voice.  
"I spent the night with my colleague, why?" He asked as he stepped inside the apartment. Chaoze sighed and leaned his forehead against the door.  
"You can't just leave without letting us know. We were worried sick!"  
"We?"  
"Yes! Zhangjing and I! And now he's _literally_ sick!" Chaoze yelled, motioning everywhere without end. 

Yanjun frowned. "What's wrong with him?"  
"What's wrong?" Chaoze echoed. "When you left for a 'walk', as you had apparently told Zhangjing last night, he began to get worried when a couple hours had passed. I tried calling but you wouldn't pick up. Obviously we were scared that something had happened to you, so Zhangjing went out for hours searching for you! I stayed in case you'd return." He sighed again. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're okay, but you need to let us know if-"  
"Where is he?" Yanjun suddenly asked, his heart feeling heavy.  
Chaoze eyed him. "In his room, sleeping."  
Yanjun turned on his heels and left for the room in a brisk walk.  
"Hey, Yanjun! Don't wake him up!" The shorter called after the other before the door shut behind him.

At first, Yanjun only watched Zhangjing. The thick blankets were brought up to his nose and a wet towel was placed over his forehead. The tip of his nose and ears were tainted red. And a pile of tissues were scattered over the floor. Yanjun sat on the end of the mattress, eyes stuck on the other. Part of him was guilty, but the other was furious. How could he still be cared for by his old friends from years ago after all this time? He couldn't understand it, and it caused a great amount of confusion. It gave him second thoughts when he needed them least. 

He placed the back of his hand gently on the other man's cheek and felt for the temperature just before Chaoze shuffled inside.  
"What's his temperature?"  
"Reached 40 last I checked." Chaoze replied as he peeled the towel off his step-brother's head and went to run cold water over it again. He threw a dry towel at Yanjun before heading out the door.  
"Dry him off with this while I fix this towel." He ordered. And immediately Yanjun stood.  
"I'll do it." He turned to Chaoze. "It's my fault, so I'll do it." He echoed. Chaoze gave him a small smile and complied with the man's wishes. 

Yanjun ran it under water and rung it out before heading back into the room. First, he dried the other off with the dry towel before placing the damp one over his forehead again. He stared at Zhangjing for a while before dropping his face into his hands. He didn't want the other to worry about him. He didn't want to be cared for by anyone outside Mask's circle. He didn't want to feel accepted by anyone else. Because that would give him those alarming second thoughts. 

But most of all, he didn't want to be reminded of his past. 

Chaoze walked in then, leaning against the dresser with arms crossed over his chest. Yanjun didn't bother lifting himself from his hands.  
"I know you don't like hearing this," the man began, "but we did worry about you after your sudden leave. Despite the explanation, although I did appreciate at least that much." He admitted. "Zhangjing was especially shaken up though, and sometimes he spoke about you being in danger, but he never expanded on that statement. Not until sleep, that is, when I'd hear him mutter that you were hurt. And there was so much pain and unease when he said it. You really impacted him when you left without saying goodbye." 

Yanjun peeled his face from his hands and his eyes met with the smaller. He wanted to tell the other that he _couldn't_ say goodbye back then. That his situation wouldn't allow it. But he relented, merely giving the man an understanding nod. It all seemed bizarre to him, the sudden realization of the acts of kindness received from them. From the moment he had met the two until that point, they only showed him kindness. Especially Zhangjing, who had always given Yanjun a specific tenderness that the man had missed out on for the first several years of life. And as much as he had been trying to repress the feeling, he did hear his thoughts scream to be with the other. Since meeting the other, Yanjun had wanted to spend every moment with him. And years later, the feeling never faded. In a fit of selfish desire, Yanjun decided on something. 

He decided then and there that Zhangjing would be joining Mask as well, whether he wanted to or not. 

***

Zhengting held his phone in his hands. He had gotten another message that his grandmother had a second heart attack. Urgent care was needed. Money was needed. He sighed, turning his attention to the payment for his room. He was already almost a month late, and just as all his hope began to dwindle, he heard a loud knock on the door. 

Zhengting opened it without hesitation, expecting the landlord at first. Instead, he was met with a man about his own age. He was very tall and slender, and had light brown hair parted down the middle. He was garbed in a chestnut colored coat and a wool scarf embellished with a crimson tinge rested over his neck. The awkward smile he presented himself with gave the man a puppy-like aura. After a moment of mere staring, Zhengting sighed.

"Sorry, wrong room." He muttered and attempted to close the door. He had assumed it was someone visiting a friend, maybe two rooms over or on the next floor. Either way, he didn't know who the man was.  
"Wenjun!" The man suddenly exclaimed. The men stared at each other for a moment. And the taller gave Zhengting another warm smile.  
"Sorry for not giving any warning. I'm Bi Wenjun, your new roommate? Yanjun should have mentioned me." He said. His voice was a bit nervous, but otherwise silky and smooth. And the words he spurred were heaven in Zhengting's needing ears. 

The elder's heart lifted. And he thought to himself that this Wenjun character really was an angel gifted to him in his time of need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing a new Nine Percent fic and I don't know if I should post it or not? I started it like two days ago but I'm pretty excited about it. It's something really different? (I don't think I've seen it before in this fandom), but I think it might be a cool concept to play around with! We'll see if I end up ever posting it lol.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhengting and Wenjun try to understand each other. Yanjun and Zhangjing talk over some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nine Percent is: disbanding in like two days
> 
> I am: really fucking depressed about it

"So what kind of workshop are you doing with Yanjun?" Zhengting asked the next afternoon.

On the first night Wenjun arrived, they had been fairly quiet. Since it was late, Zhengting only offered the younger a quick briefing of the apartment before he showed the other man to where he'd be sleeping. The conversation dwindled on a passing note and any extension was hastily deflected by fatigue. As such, once the customary introduction and short-lived tour had been completed, they both retired for the night. Wenjun promptly believed they would continue in such fashion- until the following morning, that is, when the day would snicker at such an erroneous assumption. 

The next day, Zhengting continuously asked questions- a laudable attempt to build some sort of relationship with Wenjun. The man worked at this endeavor so that any awkward tension bound in a first meeting could be rapidly avoided. He was quick to realize that Wenjun was much more timid compared to himself, so he made a damn good effort in starting every conversation. In return Wenjun faltered at every inquiry, answering with short, circumvent comments as he was unsure on how much he had the permission to give away. If possible, the man would answer dismissively, forcing the other's strive at conversation to plummet. It didn't stop Zhengting from trying, though. 

"Uh-uhm just a project." Wenjun replied shortly. Unlike Yanjun, Wenjun was, in every shape or form, insufferingly bad at bullshiting. The man suddenly wished that his senior was there with him. Zhengting tilted his head and Wenjun straightened himself, attempting to piece another comment together.   
"Yanjun is better at explaining things and dealing with the social aspects of our projects. I'm better at research and uhm, quieter tasks I guess." He said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. Zhengting brought his hand to his mouth and released a small giggle.  
"I can see that." He said, and thankfully, he didn't press any further.   
"So how long are you guys staying?" He asked instead. It was an easy question, Wenjun thought.

"Not long." 

There was a sudden pause and Wenjun looked at a shocked Zhengting.  
"Oh- uh-" he laughed nervously.   
"Why?" The other questioned as he noticed Zhengting's sudden quiet tension waving over his previous sociable nature.   
"Nothing. I guess I'll have to start looking for a new roommate again soon." He replied softly.   
"Oh…" Wenjun vaguely remembered Yanjun mentioning how desperate Zhengting was for a roommate. He frowned. "Sorry."

"What are you sorry about?"  
"I don't know, Yanjun mentioned you've been looking for awhile. So...I'm sorry if I gave you false hope."   
Zhengting shook his head. "It's alright, it's not your fault. I appreciate your company for the time being. You really saved me for a minute."  
Wenjun studied the other for a moment after the statement. He was fascinated by the notion, as most _didn't_ appreciate his company before joining Mask. He was often used for his skills and then thrown away. He could distinctly remember suffering through days of people stepping over him and using him for his profit and knowledge because of his acquiescent nature. He had gotten used to that mistreatment from anyone who wasn't part of Mask. The man bit his lip, and made a bold offer. "If you want, I can pay for everything until I leave." 

Wenjun was naive, too kind for his own good. It was how he had gotten trapped into his own mess. Zhengting's eyes shot up.   
"What? No- you don't have to. I don't know what Yanjun told you- but I'm not-" He was cut off.   
"But I saw that you're already behind in pay."  
Zhengting's mouth remained open.   
"What? How do you know?"   
"The landlord mentioned it, and I saw some paperwork you left on the desk."   
Zhenting suddenly looked vexed, his cheeks and ears reddened.   
"Wh- so that old shithead couldn't keep his mouth shut! And don't you know better than to look through others' personal documents!" He scolded. The other stared, baffled. 

"Sorry…" Wenjun finally replied softly. Zhengting placed his fingertips over his temples.  
"Never mind, it's fine. Why would you want to pay anyway? You barely know me."   
_Because I like being appreciated._ Was what his subconscious mind told him to say. Instead, Wenjun shrugged. "It's really cheap here. This is a pretty bad corner of town and the apartment is really...lacking in some ways."   
"Well, sorry I couldn't offer you something prestigious." Zhengting scoffed, throwing his hands into the air. Money tended to be a sensitive topic for the man, especially when he felt belittled by his own lack of it. Wenjun tapped his foot over the ground nervously.   
"It's just- I can help." He uttered, suddenly feeling small again. His eyes flickered up to Zhengting's, who quickly averted his gaze.   
"I don't need help." The other muttered stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why are you so eager anyway? Are you from a rich family or something?"   
"Well...yeah." The other admitted flatly. Zhengting clenched his jaw.   
"Figures. Why aren't you in a better place then?"

Wenjun licked his lips, eyes falling down and face despondent. Zhengting uncrossed his arms once he came to realize the look on the other's face.  
"I'm not in touch with them anymore." He said quietly. Zhengting frowned, suddenly guilty for berating the other. He felt regret for not biting back his tongue. Wenjun, who could probably stay in a decent place at the very least, came to room with Zhengting because Yanjun heard he was desperate- because Zhengting had been on the verge of losing everything. And the man- a stranger, offered him aid when he needed it most. Because Wenjun was kind. The brunette suddenly realized that he should be thanking the other instead of surmising his intentions. 

"Oh...uh, I'm sorry, Wenjun."   
There came a moment of silence as Zhengting watched the pensive, brooding man. The other spoke a few moments later, and for the first time since arriving, he didn't stutter. He said it clearly, with the dauntless intention of delivering every syllable. 

"Even if you don't have as much money, isn't it nicer to have a good relationship with your family? I think it would be." 

There came a sad smile following the opinion. Zhengting stepped forward, choosing his next words carefully.  
"Hey, Wenjun. I think I jumped to some conclusions there and lost my temper a bit. Money is a bit of a sensitive subject for me but I didn't mean to…" he trailed away, tracing his finger over the counter nervously.   
"It's okay." The other said, showing another small smile. "I have my own family now, like Yanjun- and a few others." He asserted. _'That's right.'_ The younger thought. _'It's like Yanjun said, Mask is my family now.'_

Zhengting nodded.  
"Good, I'm glad." He rubbed the other's shoulder encouragingly. And they both stayed silent, allowing the tension to drain as they internalized the sudden turn in atmosphere. After a few moments, Zhengting stood, carefully peeling his hand from the other.   
"I'll make dinner tonight. Anything you want in particular? I was planning on getting groceries today anyway so it's your choice." He stated.  
Wenjun offered a thankful smile at the gesture, deciding right away that he was quite fond of his roommate. That despite being overly gregarious and stubborn- despite his contentious tendency to jump to conclusions, the man had empathy. And above all, he showed that Wenjun mattered, that the taller wasn't a simple tool to be used as part of a larger excursion. The way he had always been treated by the people surrounding his old life. Wenjun shut his eyes. 

He didn't like thinking back to his past. 

_But the man couldn't realize how Mask did the same as his previous family- as he was brainwashed by spiels of false hope and love. It was sickening for any other outside the cult to witness._

When Zhengting left, the man pulled out his laptop, checking in on Xukun once more. He decided to focus on his mission once more as a means to clear his head. The blonde, however, was situated somewhere strange. Immediately, Wenjun grabbed his coat and left for the location. Several minutes later he found himself in front of a large dump of garbage. The tracker was somewhere within. Wenjun felt his head lighten as he fished out his phone and dialed for Yanjun.

"Yanjun! It's Xukun, he's gone! The tracker- it's not on him anymore!" He exclaimed nervously.  
"Fuck. What do you mean?" Was a hoarse reply. Wenjun wondered briefly if Yanjun had been crying. Then he remembered that Yanjun _didn't cry._ Ever. He shook it away.   
"I mean he's always in that apartment, but I checked today and he wasn't. I found it at a garbage site. Do you think...he found out about-"  
"Fucking smartass." Yanjun interrupted violently. "Just stay with Zhengting for now, I'll take care of it." 

Was all Yanjun said before he hung up. 

***

Yanjun sat on a chair by the kitchen table. The window sitting next to it was left ajar and the early-afternoon sun beamed into the room. He scratched on the mug of tea before him, eyes fixated on the pools of faint copper-coloured liquid. He paid mind to the acceleration of movement they made after twirling the spoon a few times- then he studied the deceleration, wondering momentarily if his speeding thoughts could decelerate as well. The man latched onto the sudden idea like death does on a soul, and he watched attentively, focusing on the strangely therapeutic braking of movement. He followed the pattern. Counted the seconds. Inhaled the gentle slow to a stop. And for a single, fleeting moment, his heart rate relaxed. 

But of course, when it came to Lin Yanjun any taste of serenity boiled to dismal conclusions.

Like a punch in the stomach, he realized it was of no use. It was futile to ponder over the speed, the man concluded, for they moved in circles, anyway. And thus, as much as they sped or slowed, they could never- not by any means of force or speed, separate themselves. Yanjun felt that his thoughts spiraled just as the tea did, and as much as they wandered, they would always come back to haunt him. He felt that they always leered over him, but only chose to strangle him when they pleased. Yanjun let his brows come together. He felt a profound bitterness tickle his tongue. It was the tea, he figured- it was taunting him. And just as the man stood to pour the venomous liquid- the mind poison away, he caught a glimpse of another man walking near. His heart rate all but stopped.

He was more than just nervous. 

The footsteps he heard approaching belonged to a familiar rabbit-like man, and before Yanjun could compose himself, Zhangjing sat across from him. The elder's own mug was placed onto the table and Yanjun sat down unobligingly. A silence overtook the two. Chaoze had left in the early morning to visit some friends- which, Yanjun deemed, was really just an excuse to get him alone with Zhangjing. Chaoze was all too knowing of their tension, and when Zhangjing had mostly recovered from his cold, he had instructed them to sort it out by the time he returned. Yanjun knew right away that it meant he would have to be overly wary of the way he spoke, because on the one hand he couldn't tell the whole truth, but on the other Zhangjing tended to see through him. _'Who am I kidding,'_ he thought suddenly, _'there's no way I won't crack._ His thoughts blistered and bled every time he breathed the same air as the other man, and he felt it suffocating to try and swallow them down. It burned his throat when he did, so he inevitably released the words cold and short. The man held back a scowl. They sat in silence as he pondered over his dilemma.

"You should have told me you were going to visit a friend that night." Zhangjing murmured. Yanjun nodded, clearing his throat.  
"Yeah- sorry. Last minute decision I guess."   
There was another silence. And all Yanjun wanted to do was pour the poison down the drain and vanish behind a door that would separate him from the other. He felt beads of sweat trail down his neck- just above the first knob of his spine. 

"Do you like the tea?" Zhangjing asked when no words had been spoken for some time.   
_'Not at all.'_ "Uh- yes."   
"You haven't tried it yet."  
"Right." Yanjun said awkwardly as he sipped from the mug. And it took every bit of strength not to spit it out the liquid that oh-so effortlessly mirrored his deepest concerns. He should really be thankful, Yanjun supposed, because growing up with an abusive father had all but taught him how to hold back from that physical intuition. The man nearly chuckled at the thought. "It's good." He replied dryly.  
Zhangjing gave him a small smile.   
"You don't have to be so tense around me, you know."   
Yanjun nodded, but the comment didn't change his position in the slightest. Zhangjing bit his lip. He shifted in his seat for a moment before speaking. 

"Look, Yanjun, I'll just say it. I'm really sorry- about everything."  
The younger's head shot up to Zhangjing, who's eyes were averted to the side.   
"What do you mean…?" Yanjun muttered, half to himself, because the man had thought himself to be in the wrong. Because, _fucking hell,_ what did Zhangjing have to be sorry for?   
"I was being really pushy. Even if I knew you felt uncomfortable addressing the topic, I tried forcing you into speech. It was wrong and uncalled for. When I thought about it some more, I realized that I had been doing it since the day we met. I-I always pressured you into doing or admitting things that were personal or out of your comfort zone. I made you uncomfortable, right? I made you tense. I hurt you." He chuckled a little. "You must have felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff everytime you were with me, but you were too nice to push me away. I see that now. So I'm sorry. For all of it. I- I thought I was helping but...it was a mistake."

Yanjun felt his entire body scream. He wanted so desperately to retaliate, he wanted to tell Zhangjing that he had nothing to apologize for and that if it weren't for the elder's actions, the younger would still be under the control of his father- and that he would be for the rest of his pathetic life. 

Yanjun found himself staring down at the tea again. And how he hated it. How he wanted to slam it into the wooden surface- how badly the man yearned for it to shatter so that he could end the spiraling once and for all. It came in circles and circles and circles and circles and circles and _god_ everything led back to You Zhangjing. Yanjun clenched his jaw- he knew that he liked being pushed to fight for what he wanted. That he liked being challenged. That he liked being seen as a soul by someone besides death. That he liked everything You Zhangjing pulled out of him. That he liked being around You Zhangjing more than anyone else in the world.

He wanted to say it all. 

But he didn't- couldn't. Like a piteous child, he could only stare at the smaller, mouth hung slightly open. So Zhangjing went on.  
"I was being selfish- still am. But I can try to change, for your sake. I don't- I don't want to break away like we did before. If I'm being honest, I want us to stay together. In contact, at least. So if you give me another chance, I promise I'll change. I'll be a better person. And if it isn't too much to ask for, I'd like us to reconnect as fri-" 

"Don't." Yanjun finally said. And he wanted to slap himself. Because a thousand words and emotions had fled through his mind but once it reached his mouth it betrayed him once more. It came simple and stupid. He took a deep breath, trying to direct those speeding thoughts into something coherent. "You don't have to change." _Yes. Good. Keep going._ "I like-" he quieted down then, letting his words fall back into his mouth. _No. Bad. Stop._  
"Yanjun, you don't have to pretend for my sake. I know I make you uncomfortab-" 

"I'm not pretending this time!" Yanjun suddenly raised his voice. He felt out of control again. He felt every nerve react to the word. Pretending; each syllable dismembered the parts that were most raw and instead dragged out the horrors of his second name. The one ingrained in indefinite wounds. The one he had lived under from the moment speech was granted to him, a form of individuality choked by shackles born of fear and servitude. Until he had been conditioned to accept subjugation. Pretending. Yanjun hated how comforting it had become. Defying it had become strenuous. And yet there came an exigent demand for it despite the labour. So he let himself lose control. He decided it would be alright not to care. 

"You're right. You do make me uncomfortable, You Zhangjing. You do make me scared and- and restless. You push me out of my comfort zone _all the time._ Everytime. You make me feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff every second I'm with you." He paused, letting out a breath. "But I love it." He admitted, with a break in his voice. "I loved being pushed beyond my boundaries, I loved being seen as an individual soul rather than a mold of- of perfection, I was so _tired_ of pretending for so long. I was so exhausted- so lost in a pattern of lies and I-" 

He noticed the bewilderment on the other's face and quickly shut himself up.   
_'What am I thinking?'_ He thought to himself, suddenly regretting every word. It was so easy to slip around Zhangjing. Too easy. He stood from the table suddenly, eyes dark and unpredictable.   
"Sorry, I'm- I'm confusing you again, aren't I? Just forget it." He muttered as he turned to leave. And then Zhangjing stood.   
"Yanjun!" He called. The other turned, eyes showing a deep hole of depression. "I want to know what you're thinking." Zhangjing finished.  
"No, you don't. You don't. I confuse you. And I hurt you all the time, it's-" he ran his fingers through his hair. "We shouldn't be doing this."  
"Why not?"   
"Because- I can't."  
"Can't? Can't what?"  
"I can't- I can't do it." The boy sputtered, heart racing. He stepped back, grasping the countertop to steady himself. He felt the circles spin around and around until they clouded his mind. It always came back. It would always be the same.   
"Do what? Yanjun, it's okay-"   
"No- Zhangjing, I can't!"   
Zhangjing hesitated only once before moving on, this time he took a step towards the other as he spoke. "Don't panic, you can-" 

And Yanjun lost it once more. The words came flying out of his lips before he realized.   
"I can't do it! I can't control myself around you!" He finally shouted, eyes locked onto Zhangjing's. There were a few moments of breathing before he moved on, more quietly this time. "I always feel so exposed, when I'm around you. The actions I take are too unpredictable." He averted his gaze again. Every word, every facial expression, every action was vulnerable to a man who could see through his own mask. It brought the most unpredictable side from him. The one he seldom allowed to see the light of day.   
"Because I don't know how to act when I'm being taken as I am. It's so foreign and I can _feel_ my nakedness. So my emotions are sent to overdrive. That's why I can't ever let my guard down. That's why I can't. But _you,_ " he dragged the word out, "you make it so difficult." 

There was a moment of reflective silence before Zhangjing answered.   
"You shouldn't feel the need to have to." The elder voiced quietly. "I understand that it's easier to put on an image, and if you _want to_ , I'll respect that. I will. But that's only if you want to. If you do it because you feel trapped- or like you don't have any other choice. If you do it because you feel like you _have to_ , I'm more than willing to be someone you can open up to- if- if it helps." 

Yanjun sighed.  
"It's not that simple. If you're the only one I can do this with- my emotions- I can't control them. It's better to block it all, trust me."  
"It's okay to show your emotions, Yanjun, you need to open your mind. You need to let go."   
"You don't _understand._ " The other affirmed. "I scare you, don't I? When you found out about my father. When my emotions took over and I started screaming at you- saying things I shouldn't have...doing things I shouldn't have." He averted his gaze again.   
"Who says you shouldn't have?"  
"I don't know- everybody? Nobody? Stop asking questions. I just shouldn't have." 

Zhangjing stepped forward once more, closing some distance between them. Yanjun abstained from stiffening- barely. It felt unsure, to talk to Zhangjing. He wasn't used to the uncertainty of oneself. He wasn't used to the loss of control. Perhaps, the man thought, in all his years being controlled by a father who taught him to pretend around others- in all his years of manipulating the people around him, he had become so skilled that he had managed to manipulate _himself_ to believe he had any means of control over his actions when he pulled out his mask. It was a survival mechanism. A desperate attempt at stabilization. The final step before defeat.

"Everything you said and did- I wasn't mad about any of it." Zhangjing asserted. "If I reacted a certain way it was because I was shocked, or worried. That's all. If I was scared, I was scared _for you_. Not of you."   
Yanjun kicked his foot over the ground. Somehow, he felt like a child in his pathetic unknowing of _how_ exactly one should react as himself. He was scared of the idea of having no boundary.   
"Even when you saw my scars?" He muttered.  
Zhangjing nodded. "Even then."  
"Even when I yelled at you? When I blamed you for things that weren't your fault?"   
"Even then."   
"Even when you found out about my dad?"   
"Even then."   
"Even when I left without a word?"  
Zhangjing gave him a weak smile. "Even then." But an inkling of sadness intertwined itself with the articulation.   
Yanjun took a deep breath, eyes locked onto the ground. He pressed his foot into it to see if he could make the tiles budge. He couldn't. It seemed that he could not manipulate everything in the way he wanted. So, in a fit of realization, he spoke once more. 

"Even when I kissed you?" He asked.   
Zhangjing stepped forward again, bending down so that he could meet eyes with Yanjun.  
"Even then." He said with a small smile. And suddenly Yanjun's heart felt light. Because for years he had been _certain_ that the other held a grudge over him for all of these reasons. That the other had an immense regret of their first meeting. That he was loathed by the other. But it was none of the sort. He released a breath of warm air. 

Zhangjing then skipped towards the fridge.   
"I bought something for you when you first arrived, but I never had a chance to give it to you." It was at that moment that he pulled something from the freezer and made his way back to a stunned Yanjun. He held it in front of him, arms stretched out.  
"Ta-da! Strawberry ice-cream!" He said, holding out the container. "I know it's winter and all but I thought you might like it. We never did have the chance to eat it together." 

And, as pathetic as the man thought it to be, _that_ was his breaking point. 

For the first time in years, he felt one of his frozen tears melt from his eyes and drip off his chin. Because, like that damned circle, it all came back to that first day. It always returned to Zhangjing and the stupid strawberry ice-cream. The first step to his own individuality. 

Zhangjing had noticed the tears first, frowning at the scene.   
"Yanjun, you're crying." He said, initially in a state of bemusement. Yanjun placed his fingers over his face, feeling the wet patches already. The tears came searing and heavy, threatening the veil made of frost. He felt a strange comfort in spite of it. Zhangjing quickly went on to apologize, perhaps for triggering old memories or being pushy again. But Yanjun didn't listen. He simply wiped his face, confused as to why they came then of all times. It surely wasn't the saddest or most disheartening time he experienced. In fact, he was quite relieved at the turn of events. 

When he met eyes with Zhangjing he realized it didn't matter. Maybe it was _because_ he was so relieved that they came. Maybe, because they were frozen since that night, that only when it came to full circle would they find their way out again. Only the man swarmed of warmth could guide them back. Without thinking, Yanjun grabbed onto the other's sleeve and pulled him in for an embrace, tightly wrapping his arms around the other's torso. He found himself sobbing against the other's head, squeezing him with such passion as he came sure of the fact that if he let go, the man would fly away. Because all felicity did. He heard Zhangjing speak then, something about passing on his cold to Yanjun. The younger let out a broken chuckle and squeezed the other tighter. A few moments later, Zhangjing returned the embrace. He whispered sweet nothings against the other's shoulder and rubbed his back gently. The nurturing touch felt unmistakably intimate and cozy. Yanjun's heart rate relaxed. And this time, it remained so. 

They stayed enveloped in each others' arms for several minutes, both chuffed to be in the other's grip. Yanjun decided in that moment that it would simply not be possible to feel anything so fervid for anyone other than Zhangjing. He did, without a doubt, _need_ Zhangjing in his life. The hold was only broken when a phone started ringing. Upon realizing it was his own, Yanjun pulled away, quick to regain his composure. He began to register what he had done and felt his cheeks burn to a fire. 

"I'm-I'm gonna take this." He said through hoarse breaths before leaving to another room and shutting the door behind him. It was Wenjun, his voice was panicked and fast. The words immediately pulled Yanjun away from his previous state of newborn tranquility. 

"Yanjun! It's Xukun, he's gone! The tracker- it's not on him anymore!' 

"Fuck."

***

Xukun and Ziyi had stayed still since their meeting with Yanjun. They had both agreed that in spite of their battle for freedom, fleeing was not an option. They had no spare money and nowhere to go. And to add to their misfortune, it was mid-winter, so the absence of shelter for even a single night was perilous in of itself. Any means of escape under their condition was a barmy resolution. They decided that, for a few days at least, they would digest what had occurred. They would form a new plan. Find a new location. But until then, both remained in the apartment. 

Ziyi watched the news on the tv, whilst Xukun was laying next to him on the couch, half-asleep with limbs sprawled and invasive of the other's space. The man's nightmares woke him up at night and his restlessness had started tugging him to slumber during the day. Ziyi flickered his attention from the tv to his phone, searching for new articles constantly. 

Just then, there was a loud knock on the door. 

Xukun's eyelids parted and he looked at Ziyi with drowsy orbs. Conversely, the elder could only stare back with widened eyes. He held his breath. 

Then the knock came again. 

Maybe it was because he was restless and couldn't think straight. Maybe it was because he tended to be impulsive. Maybe it was because his hatred for the cult had finally burst.   
For whatever reason, Xukun got to his feet and swung the door open. Ziyi shot to his own feet, hissing after the other. But it was too late, and standing before them was Lin Yanjun. 

The first thing Xukun took note of was that the man stood alone. So the blonde pulled him inside the apartment by the collar. Then, before anyone could utter a word, he swung a powerful punch across Yanjun's face. The man flew to the ground with a grunt and Xukun glowered at the fallen man, face carmine with anger. 

"You son of a _bitch_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for me to update (closing in on two weeks?) I've actually had this chapter written for over a week now but I kept procrastinating editing it because I was sick for awhile and spent my spare time editing the first chapter of my other fic. 
> 
> The next two weeks of school are gonna be really hectic for me so I wanted to get a chapter in before then because I know I won't have a lot of time to write in the coming days. I still have every intention in finishing this fic- it just might take awhile lol. But I edited this chapter really quickly and only went over it once so I'm sorry if there are some mistakes or awkward sentencing.
> 
> (Extra note: I had a job interview at a Tea shop today...inspo for Yanjun's tea metaphor? ...perhaps...)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yanjun tries to explain himself to Xukun and Ziyi. Meanwhile, Chaoze, Yanchen and Zeren make a plan to help ease the tension within the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yanjun just can't seem to stop being a manipulative ass in this fic smh.

Chaoze sat himself on the velvety couch he was appointed to. He was in Yanchen and Zeren's apartment, called over by the two of them only several minutes prior. Neither had offered any previous explanation for the call, so the man sat with an air of curiosity. He wanted to question his calling, but relented in fear of interrupting the conversation that hadn't even begun. The lack of direct communication paired with an equal aversion of eye contact left him in a state of quietude. So he simply waited. The other two exchanged an unidentifiable look before Zeren spoke up. 

"We don't know if you've taken note of this, but Yanchen is stressed about the tension with our team. And if I'm being honest, I'm not a fan of it either." It was straight to the point, which Chaoze appreciated. In fact, it had been a topic he had also yearned to bring to light, but held off until then in fear of being the only one who thought so- or worse, being the one to put the idea into their heads. As such, he waited to see if the others would notice, because if they didn't, they'd have to dance around it. And if they danced around it, they wouldn't reach their conclusion. 

"You mean, since Yanjun came along?" He asked.  
"Yeah, and Xukun." Yanchen clarified. "He still has some tension with Zhengting- despite Zeren's _glorious_ attempt at getting them to talk things over last time." He finished with an air of sarcasm.  
"Firstly, my idea was nothing short of brilliant. Secondly," Zeren took a breath, "it's not that we don't like them," he assured, knowing that Yanjun was especially close with Chaoze, "but we want to ease that tension a bit, right Yanchen?"

The other quickly nodded. He was thankful that Zeren didn't mention his distinct suspicions against Yanjun, for he knew how much he meant to Chaoze. And although Xukun was the first to guide an awkward tension between another team member, Yanchen allowed it to slide on the thought that it was nothing but juvenile quarrels between him a singular member. Another thought that settled him was the fact that this member was Zhengting, who was easily provoked anyway. With Yanjun, however, tension was an untenable way to describe the feeling that had crawled into the room. The look that had befallen Xukun and Ziyi was something he could not illustrate with the vocabulary he had, as it went beyond anything he had ever felt himself. And the simple curiosity that had resulted from that first encounter only grew with every question he evoked. It was almost agonizing to think about. The man bit back his tongue. 

"I was thinking of doing something like that too!" Chaoze ejaculated. Zeren's gaze flew from Yanchen to the man who had spoken.   
"Really?"   
"Yeah! I think it's because we don't have that close bond with them yet. I mean, yeah, Ziyi is close with Xukun and Zhangjing and I know Yanjun, but they lack a connection with the rest of the team. I think what made us so powerful to begin with was the teamwork that came out of our good relations with one another. And not only with a single member, but with the entire group."   
Zeren inhaled loudly- pressing his knuckles against his lips in awe.  
"A hangout with everyone?" He asked.   
"Exactly."   
Zeren snapped a finger at the seated man. "Great minds think alike." He noted with a dimpled smile.   
"But we all have different schedules." Yanchen quickly remarked. Chaoze gave him a confident smile.

"Not a problem, I have an idea." 

***

"You son of a _bitch._ " 

Xukun seethed, glowering down at Yanjun. His eyes and lips twitched uncontrollably. His blood rushed for his fingers and his nail beds dug into the palm of his hand. Varying shades of red and white fought for dominance over the first he used in his attack. The other grunted something inaudible as he whipped his bleeding lip with the tip of his knuckles. He studied the wisp of ruby stained over his skin and savoured the metallic warmth of it. It had been some time since he swallowed the smoldering aftertaste of iron. It was something the painfully biddable version of himself had previously devoured in obedience to criminality. It had returned to him then. It seemed that, in past and present, he would always be attacked by a familial enemy. And, in both past and present, although people and places would vary, the underlying nature came in inevitable circles. His initial shock from the act quickly petered to understanding. Impulsive actions led to to chain of them, he supposed sourly. 

"You're the rat who's trying to drag us back in." Xukun hissed angrily, grabbing the other by the collar and forcing him to his feet. Yanjun made to grab the other's collar as well- and succeeded, albeit weakly, as he was thrusted into the wall, shoulder blades pressed firmly against it. The gaze he gave Xukun when their eyes met was impenetrable and enduring. He made no impression of running away.  
"Listen to me. I'm alone." Yanjun whispered, low and rough against the air he lost battling Xukun's vicious hold. He ensured, in spite of his position, that they released crisp and clear. He articulated every last syllable, so that there would be no misconception in what he voiced. 

"Hell yeah you are." The other replied equally throaty, "that's why I'm killing you now- before _they_ show up!" Xukun pushed the other's arms out of his way and dove into action. He grabbed Yanjun's shoulders and pulled him down, bringing his own knee up and digging it into the elder's abdomen in a single, powerful motion. Yanjun released a sharp hiss at the strike before all breath escaped his lungs. His eyes were shut closed and he bit his lip, putting all focus into regaining the ability to breathe. As he tried to recollect the air that had spilled off his lip after it had been brutally knocked out of his lungs, he forced himself to stand, eyes meeting the blonde's once more. 

"Xukun- I just want to talk!" Yanjun said through another wince. Xukun ignored the statement. He leaped forward again, this time sending his elbow against the other's neck. He dug the bone against a soft piece of flesh and Yanjun felt himself collapse. A surge of pain shot from his neck and quickly spread over the rest of his body like a plague, soaking himself within it. He remembered, suddenly, a moment when he neared death. The last time he was touched so aggressively on the neck. When a man's hand had caught his throat and compressed the flesh until Yanjun felt himself writhe under claws teeming with murderous intentions. A moment when a fleeting feeling of complete loss had overtaken him and he accepted, for that split second, that he would die with an ingrown mask. That he would die before being born. He furrowed his brows at the thought. 

Yanjun felt he had no choice but to act. He had an advantage, after all. As much as Xukun had suffered in his past, the elder knew he was much more used to an attack. 

The man snatched Xukun's neck and threw him against an adjacent wall, then punched him once. Twice. Three times. Four times until Xukun's mouth bled ferociously. The blood came rushing out and spilled over his chin. Yanjun realized how he had failed to take control over his strength, and felt a small sense of culpability as he watched a bleeding Xukun. It seemed, however, to be the only way to get him to stop. He used that thought to justify the aggression of his actions. The blonde let loose of a painful groan just before he was grabbed by the collar once more.  
"Will you listen now?" Yanjun asked, wanting a genuine answer from the mentioned. Xukun smiled back a wryly, white teeth showing only somewhat against the otherwise pouring vermillion. He replied dryly, accepting none of Yanjun's attempts at conversation. 

"Fuck you."

Just as Yanjun was about to act again, he felt himself being torn off the blonde so aggressively he nearly fell backwards. When he regained his footing, his eyes found Ziyi's. The taller's looked at neither of the two, but rather, stayed fixated on his own hands. The orbs were painted black with rage, and Yanjun thought the man might snap if he looked at either in the eye.  
"Enough!" Ziyi demanded when he had finally broken out of his state of shock. Yanjun immediately stilled, brushing himself off and straightening out his clothes. He was thankful for the interception, as it worked mostly in his favour. Xukun, on the other hand, leaped for the other immediately afterwards, paying no heed to Ziyi's order. The taller held him back instantly.

"Kun, don't do it." He warned, but the other only squirmed furiously. He spat the mass of blood building between his teeth before he spoke.  
"He's the one, Ziyi! He's behind it! He's trying to take us back to that- for fuck's sake Ziyi!" He exclaimed when he finally realized the futility behind his attempt at getting past the other. Xukun glared daggers at Yanjun as he spoke, and the other could only stare back in bemusement.   
"You couldn't just stay with your fake little family, could you? You're so obsessed with that cult it might actually be pitiful if it weren't so fucked up. If _you_ weren't so fucked up as to be willing to take us away against our will- dragging us back like prisoners." He continued, spilling the words like acid. He waited for some sort of feasible reply from the other. All he got was,   
"I just want to talk."   
Xukun laughed mirthlessly,   
"Go to hell, Yanjun." He spat. 

"Kun, calm down." Ziyi muttered, but Xukun didn't fail to notice the strength of his grip. It seemed that if the man let go of the other, he too would lose control and act rashly. Xukun bit his tongue, averting the fury in his eyes that only inflamed with every passing glance at the other. Yanjun loosened slightly after a moment of silence from the two. Ziyi then turned and sent a sharp gaze to Yanjun. There was a spark of fire in his eyes before he spoke.

"This better be good." 

It wasn't welcoming, but it was an offer at speech, so the elder took it as the best he would receive under their current situation. Yanjun looked at both for a moment before speaking. He had a plan, one he had created the very moment he bumped into Chaoze. The one that would give him reason to be there. The one that could win their trust. One that could give him alibis and reason to manipulate them into belief. The man began his deception eagerly.

"You both jumped to conclusions. Neither of you know why I'm here." He started.   
"You're here to check on us. We're not idiots, Yanjun." Xukun replied dryly. The other inhaled sharply at the shot, lips pressed together.   
"Just- let me speak." He retaliated. "I'm here because Chaoze and Zhangjing really are old high school friends. You can ask them, they'll say the same thing."   
"So?"   
_"So,"_ Yanjun began, "why do you think I'm here? The workshop was a lie- one to explain to them why I came so suddenly. But we all know I came from Mask." He looked at them again, letting his gaze fall on Xukun. "You're not the only one who was inspired to leave-" 

_"Bullshit."_ Xukun immediately rejoined. His eyes narrowed at the other. "Don't you dare try to tell me you're like us. We both know how dedicated you were to Mask."   
"Think about it for a second!" Yanjun immediately shot back. "Why would I come to a place where I know people from my past? It's because I needed a place to stay. That's why. Not everyone had their own 'Wang Ziyi' to offer them someplace to be, Xukun. I don't have cash. I don't have resources. I needed a roof over my head." 

"What about the tracker?" Ziyi suddenly asked. "I'll admit, the fact that you are living with people you know works in your defense. But is it a coincidence that Xukun had a tracker? I don't think so."  
"Yes, Mask put a tracker on him. They didn't want him escaping like you did. But _I_ didn't put it there and _I_ can't use it. You're lumping me in with them."  
"Because you _are_ one of them!" Xukun shot.  
"If I am then so are the two of you. Do you honestly think I know how this tracker works? In case you've forgotten, I didn't exactly get very far in my education because of my family situation."   
"You're so full of shit." Xukun shook his head as he spoke. "We know Wenjun is here, asshole." 

Yanjun looked shocked for a moment. _This is new._ He thought. _They're smarter than I thought._ Their knowledge of Wenjun had not been planned nor predicated. Nonetheless, he worked to twist it to his favour. 

"Yeah, he is." Yanjun nodded. "Because he's also trying to leave."   
"Why? Wouldn't the cult be coaxing him right now? He'd have no reason to." Ziyi argued.   
"That's the whole point. It's _because_ he was so new to it that he left. Because of his skill, experience, and equipment, he was used for a multitude of things that he shouldn't have known about. He was exposed to too much too soon, and didn't like the idea of tracking Xukun- never did. He started to disagree with some of their practices. At this point, he hadn't yet built that connection with Mask and it's members as his stay was so short. Not like we did, so it was an easy decision for him. We left together." 

There was a moment of silence that followed. Yanjun knew that although it was mostly a lie, there came sporadic moments of truth and favourable coincidences that worked advantageously for himself. He waited for a response, which, he deemed from the silence, would be much more calculated than the comments he received before. 

"This is too much of a coincidence." Ziyi spoke first, shaking his head in disbelief.   
"It's not my fault you two happened to be with the only friends I had from high school. What else did you want me to do? Who else did you want me to visit? My fucking _dad?_ " He scoffed, and a choked laughter threatened his lips. "Yeah, right. Zhangjing and Chaoze are all I have." He retaliated. Part of it wasn't a lie, he thought. Because it was a coincidence. He just happened to flip it around to his advantage. When the other two failed to respond, Yanjun went on, interpreting it as the first step to their relinquished guard.   
"And wouldn't they be here by now if I was here to get you back? _Think about it._ "

Ziyi and Xukun exchanged looks at the statement, and Yanjun knew he had them.

"You don't have to believe me if you don't want to, but it's the truth." He said just before he felt his own phone buzz in his pocket. Ziyi's, coincidentally, went off at the same time. They both exchanged looks before fishing out the device. Xukun looked over Ziyi's shoulder, as the man didn't have his own. Mask limited any means of contact, after all. They had previously been prohibited from outside contact. And even though he had escaped, the man didn't have the money for one. Yanjun had only received one for the sake of his mission. Both he and Ziyi received the same message from Zeren.

_'Meet at the dance studio now. It's an emergency.'_

***

The men filed into the studio one group at a time, and when all of them had arrived, they seated themselves on the floor. Each looked as equally muddled as his neighbour. They exchanged the occasional shrug and puzzled look with one another, as Zeren had not specified the context of their arrival in his sudden demand. Inquisitive murmurs echoed between them as they waited for an explanation. Before them, at the front of the room, Yanchen, Chaoze and Zeren stood with indecipherable expressions. They left the others in postponement. When he deemed that enough time had passed, Zhengting stood up from his seated position. Once on his feet, the murmurs emerging from the rest dwindled to complete silence. The leader gave each of the three standing a look before speaking. 

"What is this about?" Zhengting asked. The three exchanged looks before Zeren stepped forward. Despite being targeted to the several bodies within the room, his gaze rested on the elder whilst he explained.  
"Alright, so, anyone who has more than two brain cells can probably tell that there's been a lot of unwanted tension recently." He started bluntly.   
"Is that why it took you the longest to notice?" Yanchen muttered with a playful smirk. Zeren swiveled his head around at the comment, receiving the switch to an innocent smile from the speaker. He shook his head and just as he was about to retort, he was interrupted by another. 

_"Anyways,"_ Chaoze went on, clearing his throat, "we really wanted to reinforce a positive and relaxed environment, so we thought of a plan."   
"A plan?" Zhangjing echoed.   
"Exactly. A plan to fix it." Zeren nodded with Yanchen held tight in a headlock. The taller laughed under the hold and the others began to take the talk casually. They let go of their apprehension with the playing of the coltish scene. Chaoze shook his head disapprovingly before moving into detail.   
"Before Xukun and Yanjun joined, we had a pretty close bond. Because we got along so well, the environment was always friendly and welcoming. So, we thought that we should all go out together and have fun. The only time we ever see one another is in the studio and we feel like it prevents us from creating a deeper bond with one another. Since we have two new members anyway, it would be a good idea to get to know each other better." 

The others murmured between one another once more before Zhengting spoke up.  
"So what are you thinking of?"   
"We haven't decided yet. We were gonna come up with something that we think everyone might like."  
"Just saying, _I_ already offered clubbing but Chaoze shot the idea down." Zeren whispered just loud enough so that everyone could hear the slight pettiness ringing within the words. He shuffled towards the group and sat next to them, the other two following close behind.   
"Anyone have any _good_ ideas." Chaoze said as he sat down with the rest of them. Yanchen giggled at the comment. Zeren elbowed him in return. The others only emitted a long silence. 

Despite the talk, the tension was still blossoming. Xukun was vexed beyond speech after the argument he had had prior to the meeting. Ziyi was equally nettled by the discrepant ideas he held over Yanjun subsequent to their talk. Yanjun's mind was as unhinged as it had been the day he left his previous life behind. Zhangjing could not bring himself to stop worrying about Yanjun. Conversely, Yanchen's suspicion for Yanjun and his relations with the other members only snowballed when he saw the man walk in with Xukun and Ziyi. And he didn't fail to notice the drying smudge of blood over Xukun's lip. Zhengting didn't either, but relented from investigating right away. He was still coming to terms with accepting Xukun in spite of his minacious nature. Zeren was working to ease Yanchen's worries, and Chaoze was busy trying to settle them all down. 

A long breath came from the last to have spoken. Then, one of them dared to evoke a response. It was quiet and unsure, but it was a hard attempt at easing the building quietude. 

"We could see a movie?" Zhangjing offered softly. The others shifted.   
"Where's the bonding in that, though?" Yanchen asked with a small frown. Yanjun immediately spoke up, defending the smaller's idea.  
"No, I actually think it might be a good idea. There's a drive in movie place a few miles from here. We could do that and make a campfire or something- for a social aspect."   
"Yes!" Zeren snapped his fingers and pointed his index at Yanjun. "I like the way you think bud." He admitted with a grin. Yanjun returned the smile before catching a small glance at Zhangjing, who looked satisfied with the response. Chaoze considered it for a moment before nodding.  
"That could work." He said. "Is everyone alright with that?" 

The rest agreed fairly cordially. The premise of it left some far from ecstatic, but they fell lenient to the idea to avoid confrontation or further inquiry. When Chaoze judged them open-minded to the plans, he clasped his hands together. 

"Great, then it's settled! Instead of a dance practice, we'll spend this Sunday night out."

***

"Yeah, they'll all be there. It's really secluded, and not too far from home. I'll send you the exact location so you can come get them." 

"Good, Yanjun, then Mask will be there for them on the night of the campfire." 

And with that, the leader's voice faded behind the phone. Yanjun let the device hang next to his ear for a moment. He hadn't thought twice about delivering the message, as the man was appointed to bring any updates to the cognizance of his leader. And sure enough, he would fulfill anything he was deputed. This call, however, was of paramount importance, as it was the one where he could vocalize a start in action. He assumed that, despite his convincing words, Xukun and Ziyi would be far too obstreperous to carry alone. That many more would have to come. Especially since, now, he planned on bringing along more than just the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm officially done with midterms. Hell yeah babes. I'm hoping this means I have more time to write this week :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhangjun lol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this chapter finished for two days now but I kept putting off posting it for some reason ahhfjfjnf

As the awaited day crept into presence, the men finally set out for the destination they had previously assented to. Many journeyed exuberantly, thrilled at the night they had adopted for their excursion. Others stomached the neurotic sense untangling itself from under an unidentifiable end result. With mangled thoughts and heavy chests, they settled themselves within one of the two vehicles and accepted an unknown fate. The ones who knew of Mask watched themselves grow both further and closer to home, and all four wondered fleetingly which end held that place. It didn't matter anyway, they concluded, for they had all made their decision. Clutching ingenuous spirits and hopeful hearts, they drove straight into the hands of uncertainty. 

Outside the confinement of the vehicle, the snow melted to slush. Within nature, then, a new face began to flower. One that drew away from the distinct colouring and smothered fragrance offered by the coldest season. One that was free from any unadorned similitude. Yanjun took special note of this. It seemed that spring had tiptoed into the world so noiselessly that the man had failed to take account of it until that moment. He came to the conclusion that _perhaps_ he was growing quite fond of the smell of spring. Yanjun gathered that, as much as he favored a frigid, dead winter, spring had begun to swell onto him. In the past, witnessing the frost melt first hand had always daunted the man. It seemed that with a mere change in heat, every fragment of carefully built verglas would disintegrate to a pathetic nothingness. Yanjun swallowed the thought. This time, however, he found a foreign pleasantry in the unveiling of its primordial state of being. He couldn't tell if this revelation troubled or rescued him. The internal battle between the two made his head pound, so he tightened his grip over the steering wheel and focused on the road ahead. Secretly, though, he couldn't help but glance over to the rabbit-like man in the passenger's seat. Something about his incessant thoughts brought him to the other.

They had set off to their target place with two drivers; Zeren and Yanjun. Zeren drove behind the aforementioned, Yanchen settled nicely in the passenger's seat. In Zeren's truck, Xukun, Ziyi and Chaoze had squeezed themselves in the back. Since the two former cult members absolutely refused to buckle themselves in an enclosed area that Yanjun was in sole control of, they immediately went for the other's vehicle. Nonetheless, in spite of this precaution, they still felt the intertwinement of fear and relief of the outing's result blossom with every measure of distance placed between themselves and the apartment. Xukun pressed his arm against the other's halfway through the ride, and Ziyi knew that this meant they would have a serious chat once they arrived. 

Zhengting and Wenjun found themselves in the back of Yanjun's car. The leader had invited Wenjun to join himself. He felt no need to ask the others beforehand as he knew of the man's relationship with Yanjun, so it wasn't like he was bringing a stranger. And, he thought, he didn't want to isolate the taller from their activities. They were roommates, after all, and Zhengting found himself beginning to grow especially fond of Wenjun. Through these actions, Wenjun thought himself as appreciated once more by his roommate. And in the midst of these thoughts, he too had decided that he had grown quite the liking for Zhu Zhengting, despite their short time of knowing one another. 

It seemed that most were glad to have him join along. 

He couldn't say the same for everyone though, as two figures showed a strong hostility towards his appearance. When Ziyi and Xukun had first laid eyes on him, there was a fiery exchange between them. It ended on unspoken conflict, as they both knew Wenjun was around, anyway. It didn't stop blood from searing beneath flesh though. They resolved this abhorrence by taking a different vehicle from the two current members of Mask. 

Originally, Zeren was the only one who actually owned his own truck. However, when they realized there wasn't enough space for all of them, Chaoze evoked something that sent nervous chills down Yanjun's spine.  
"Don't you have a car, Yanjun?" He asked while they struggled with the seating plan. Yanjun slapped himself internally. The first time they met, he had told Chaoze about his 'awful parking' to get Wenjun to leave the scene. He didn't _actually_ have one with him.  
"Yeah." He muttered in defeat. 

In the end, despite being especially versed in talking his way out of unwanted situations, Yanjun couldn't escape the sudden reliance on his promise. In his desperation for the maintenance of the outing– as it was a vital part of his mission, the man tolerated renting a ramshackle car for a day. Within the battered object, Zhengting, Wenjun and Zhanging joined him. He drove ahead with Zeren following close behind. Throughout the ride, Zhangjing and Zhengting took part in nearly all conversation. Wenjun joined sporadically– usually when Zhengting purposefully included him. Yanjun, however, fell silent for the entire trip. The time for action was only hours away, and his entire body was jittering at the sheer suspense of it. On a few occasions, his orbs would flicker to the rear-view mirror and catch a glimpse of Wenjun at the back. The taller knew, for Yanjun and explained beforehand. He knew everything.

Soon enough, they pulled into the drive in movie theater. It was in the middle of a small neighborhood where everything was spread so far out, the distance from one building to the next would take several minutes on foot. The location they settled on was especially deserted from all outside contact. It was far from the neighborhood. It was even farther from the city. Surrounding them was a mass of sapped, hoary forest. The sky was already darkening as the evening was being sucked away by nightfall. They pulled in and parked with the other mass of cars. Yanjun placed himself near the back, in the corner, and Zeren parked himself next to the other. In front of them was a huge movie screen. The film had already started playing and most of the others situated in the venue were tucked away into their own confinements. 

Zeren immediately jumped out enthusiastically, others followed less-so. They shared small groans and began stretching from the long drive. The venue was unnecessarily far from the city, after all. Just as the men started to pull out the snacks and blankets they had brought for the occasion, the smallest of the bunch turned to face the bundle of people.  
"Alright, anyone who wants to use the washroom or get some extra food, go into the building now so we don't miss more of the movie." Chaoze instructed, pointing to the small building several meters away. The majority went for it immediately, nattering away with each other. They left only four behind. 

Once the majority was far enough away, Xukun turned to Ziyi, muttered something into his ear, and they both left as well. Yanjun watched them vanish behind the small hut, eyes narrowed. He hoped they weren't as suspicious of him, but he definitely wasn't confident in the idea. Zhangjing stayed behind with the man, and they sat themselves on the open back of Zeren's truck. Both stayed silent for a moment, but it was a comfortable silence. Yanjun sighed.

The smaller was nestled against him, a thin blanket draped over his shoulders. Rhythmic breathing emerged from the man, but that air came crooned and gentle. Yanjun decided that even breathing sounded like some kind of melodic strain when it was Zhangjing. At least, that's how he would always hear it. Sweet, airy wisps came and went like therapeutic tuning. It should have settled him– it normally did, but Yanjun only felt his heart pound from inside of his chest. His fingers twitched. 

Why was it that Zhangjing smelled like spring? Why was it that he _felt_ so much like spring? The younger wondered momentarily if that was the reason for the involuntary affection he held towards a way of life that worked to thaw frost.

"The snow finally melted." Zhangjing uttered suddenly. But when the statement left his lips, he shivered, pulling the blanket closer into himself. Yanjun decided that he was the one who released frost. That he was all too capable of mirroring chills. That between he and the smaller, one would have to capitulate to the other. He thought it impossible for the two to intermingle in any fashion. Then, as if his thoughts were vocalized openly, they were immediately broken down by Zhangjing.  
"It's getting warmer, though." The man remarked. Yanjun's heart settled only a little. He nodded, then countered it.  
"But there's still a chill." He rebuffed. 

"It'll warm up soon. It takes time."  
Yanjun looked at the other when he said this, taking note of the goosebumps climbing Zhangjing's neck.  
"Chills are echoed in heat. You can feel them all the time. It doesn't go away. It's only echoed in spring until it comes back in full circle." He argued, and part of him didn't know what it even meant. Another part– a deeper feeling, pushed the words out involuntarily. Zhangjing simply smiled a knowing smile at the notion, as if he knew exactly what the other meant.  
"Maybe it's okay to mix both." He offered with a small shrug. And Yanjun couldn't find anything to rejoin the statement. He parted his lips only once, then sealed them. He wanted it to be true, so the man grasped onto the offer, and decided that maybe only half of his plasticity would melt away. Maybe that was allowed. There was a minute of pensive silence between the two before Zhangjing cut it, his words like a knife through warm butter. 

"Feel better?" The elder asked, touching on nothing in particular and yet Yanjun knew exactly what he was talking about.  
"A lot." The other admitted. The talk he had with the smaller had melted the wall he held for so long. It seemed like forgiveness even though the other insisted there was nothing to be forgiven for anyway. Zhangjing was willing- no, _wanting_ to rebuild a relationship with him. And to top it all off, the night for action had finally made its awaited appearance. He would return to Mask–to the group he called family. Yanjun felt so good it was almost scary. 

"Good. I'm glad." Zhangjing smiled satisfactorily. "It must've been exhausting to stomach all that guilt for so long."  
Yanjun glued his eyes onto the other. It was strange, but he discovered that he suddenly felt able to study and feel and experiment with everything– _anything_ real around Zhangjing. Speech, gaze, action– it was all muffled, and all pounding for freedom. Since he had returned to Zhangjing, he avoided all these things in fear that they would wake something inside of him. Something unreliable and uncontrollable. Now, he felt rebellious enough to experiment. To set at least a fragment of these yearnings free. Still, they felt foreign and risky, so he decided to start on one, beginning with a travelling look. He kept his eyes over the other in lingering gaze, studying his side profile like it was a work of art he would have to replicate and never see again. _This is new._ He swallowed. 

"It was." Yanjun murmured when he realized he hadn't yet answered the elder. In his daze, he felt excruciatingly drawn to the other's face. Zhangjing's eyes flickered to the other's when he felt the closing of distance between them. He saw something shift within the man's orbs. Something raw and powerful. It cleared the nebulous haze that was perpetually present. It intrigued him. He blinked once, internalizing the action before moving along with it. 

"But there's no reason to anymore." Zhangjing went on, instinctively moving closer when he felt that Yanjun was. Yanjun felt his fingers twitch once more, then numb. He felt a foreign urge to shift his hand closer to the other, to see if Zhangjing's skin was equally as warm as his words and his breath. He relented– only just. The feeling of the elder's breath against his skin in the final chills of winter was utterly nauseating– but addicting nevertheless. Yanjun faltered.  
"Are you sure?" He asked with a release of nervous tremor. He paused his movement– retracted, even. Releasing the fine strings of control was nothing short of gut-churning. Everything felt unprecedented.  
"Positive." Zhangjing's word came assured and rigid. He continued moving closer. Yanjun scratched the surface beneath him just as he did on the park bench the day they had met. It was of no use. He felt numb. The man took a deep breath and faced the burning eagerness inside himself. 

"Will you promise to stay with me from now on? I can't-" there was a pause, "I can't live without you." He murmured so quietly it was barely audible. The words stung when they loosened from his teeth, but they were the honest truth. Without the other man, Yanjun felt glued to his mask. There was a pause from the smaller at that moment. It was unsettling at first, until he released a reply.  
"Weren't _you_ the one who left _me?_ " Zhangjing played with a small smirk, their lips only centimeters apart. Yanjun immediately felt his body itch because _damn_ the other _must have_ presented the smirk so that his gaze would fall to those pink lips. It galled the man to the extent he felt his teeth clench. Leaving his promise with a rhetorical question? With an action of his past? _You're really something, You Zhangjing_ , he thought, because it was all too much. He needed to get a grip. 

Yanjun pressed his forehead against the other's. His entire body shook with something he couldn't seem to pinpoint. He closed his eyes, afraid of what he might do if he studied the other man any longer. If he looked at those lips for another goddamn second. His body froze over. It was easier to keep control when it did. It constrained him for a moment, but no longer than a fleeting moment, because just then, he felt it. A hand had found his own, and began tracing gentle circles over his wrist. The touch was so tender and reposeful and _nostalgic_ above all else. He remembered the same feeling against his back on the day he had released everything in front of the other, merely moments before their lips met for the first time. He remembered the tears, the shouts, the pain. And then, he focused on the overwhelming tenderness and compassion emerging from the gesture. Yanjun shuddered and his eyes flew open at the touch. It was over. He met eyes with the other only once, orbs swimming in something volatile.

"I missed you." He whispered in a growl before he caught the other's lips with a crash. The kiss started fast and greedy. He could immediately taste lip, skin and gum between clashing teeth. Initially, Yanjun wanted the meeting of lips to be just as tender as that touch. He didn't quite understand why– maybe it was because Zhangjing had riled him with the question, maybe it was because of the memories it roused, maybe it was because he had grown impatient from waiting so long for it. Either way, he had no intention of changing the pace they had started with. And this time, like a miraculous dream, Zhangjing kissed back. Yanjun's stomach flipped when he felt the other's lips moving along with his. It was absolute heaven to have it– to have _him_. Zhangjing's lips danced into his like a prayer within a storm and Yanjun couldn't help himself from pushing forward. 

Without breaking the kiss, Yanjun maneuvered them so that Zhangjing laid gently on his back and that he himself would be hovering over the other within the truck. Once settled in that position, he broke the kiss once to regain lost breath. Beneath him, the smaller looked back with glassy eyes and puffed lips. His cheeks were always rosy, but they deepened to a dark scarlet. Yanjun's breath hitched at the sight, and a voice told him that it _had_ to be a dream. That in a life full of regret, everything suddenly felt _too_ perfect. It wasn't real– it was a dream, he asserted. It wouldn't be the first, after all. And he had already convinced himself that, like all the others, he would wake in a flustered sweat and move on. So with a body numbed by both the chill in the late-evening air and his internal ignition, he went back in. 

This time, he felt bold, and dove in just as lively despite having only just regained his breath. The kiss deepened when Zhangjing wrapped his arms around his neck. But it was only when Yanjun felt the other grip the hair on the back of his head that he pushed even further. The younger groaned into the man below him and slid his tongue out. He begged wordlessly for an opening, to which Zhangjing quickly obliged. Yanjun allowed his tongue to travel through the other's mouth and everything felt so _hot_ under the cold weather. The man was sure in that moment that Zhangjing would melt him completely. When they ran out of breath again Yanjun pulled away and began trailing kisses down the other's neck. He proceeded to the action so speedily it was as though Zhangjing was the medication for a sick man. He was sick, Yanjun thought, sick in mind and soul because of all the repression. _Zhangjing, Zhangjing, Zhangjing_ , the name chimed and echoed in his head like church bells. None of it felt real. He extinguished the idea that it could be the second it had begun. 

"They'll...come back- Yan-...they'll…" Zhangjing managed to mutter between breaths before he bit his lip to prevent any noise from slipping. Yanjun didn't halt his actions. He didn't care. He'd be damned if anyone came. It wasn't a known reality, anyway. The man paused where he could feel Zhangjing's pulse, initially keeping only the tip of his lips against it. Then, in a daze of desire, he dug his teeth into the area. Immediately, he felt Zhangjing unfurl from under him. The smaller's back arched like a bow and he released a moan that was much louder than intended. It boomed between them like a flash of lightning. 

Yanjun stopped instantly– frozen. _It's real._

Once the sound brought him back to reality, his eyes widened in horror. _Fuck. This isn't a dream_. His eyes only met Zhangjing's once. The other's were equally bulged at the shock of the sound he emitted. Every action, every touch, every meeting of skin came back in a roaring flash. Immediately, Yanjun clambered off the man and scrambled to the opposite end of the truck, putting as much distance between himself and the other as possible. The back of his hand was placed gently over his smoldering lips, his eyes still unblinking. Zhangjing sat up and pressed himself as far as he could against the other end. He also had both his hands clamped over his lips, his face was tinted a deep crimson. There was a moment of silence between the two as they internalized the actions they had committed. The chilling breeze came back, but Yanjun's lips still felt unbearably hot. 

"I-I need to use the restroom." He managed to sputter stupidly before jumping out of the truck and speeding for the building. He left no time for a reply from the other. His head spun and his stomach felt sick at the realization. The recent memories flashed into play and his conflicting feelings tried both to suppress and remember them at once. He forced open the doors to the building, leaving a barrier between himself and the man he couldn't live without. 

***

Ziyi and Xukun brought themselves behind the building, standing between it and a vast area of forest. It was darker and concealed, as the screen was hidden behind them and there lay no window on the back wall of the building. Since it was a drive in movie, there was no sound, and everything felt eerily still. Xukun looked around himself nervously. His bottom lip met teeth and he began chewing on it, just as he did every time he was anxious. It had always been his nervous tic. Ziyi began to raise a hand to put an end to the action, but recoiled halfway. Xukun's lips were often cut and bruised from this habit, but the elder relented from interjecting this time. The blonde had every reason to be disquieted considering their circumstances. Minutes went by and Ziyi waited for Xukun to start as the younger's gaze rested on the cloud of forest before him. The branches hung bare and colourless, greatly resembling a clump of disturbed grey in the beginnings of spring. He thought it looked ominously similar to the one near Mask. A shiver crawled up his spine before he spoke. 

"I have a really bad feeling about this." Xukun voiced speedily.  
"Because Yanjun offered it up?" Ziyi cleared.  
"I just," the other started, "I don't trust him. Even with his explanation– even with his reasoning–it's _so_ unlike him to leave Mask."  
"I know." Ziyi agreed with a nod. "It's really abnormal– some of his arguments make a lot of sense, but some are just…" he trailed off.  
"Unbelievable?" Xukun finished for him.  
"Too coincidental. Too out of character. Too perfect." He looked at the other. "So, yes, unbelievable." 

A silence joined the conversation when Ziyi had finished. Both were on the same page about Yanjun and their situation in that they both dithered over the situation and the correct actions to take. Both acknowledged the uncertainty ahead all too well.

"I guess, since this is a public place...I mean, maybe it won't be so bad- maybe it- maybe it won't end terribly." Xukun stammered, looking back at the several other cars parked in.  
"And he _could_ be telling the truth." Ziyi went on, joining in on convincing himself of the most desirable outcome. "I mean, there's no doubt that Zhangjing and Chaoze knew him. And Wenjun- I guess if he hadn't been fully coaxed he might have some initiative."  
There was a small pause as Xukun held his breath. Alas, the question tore through his lips.  
"But how could Mask let so many people leave in such a short period of time? You're the one who said it, right?– it's too easy." Xukun questioned, feeling his stomach sink a little as he did. Neither answered, because both knew that this answer would most likely play against their internal charade. 

"I just hope this isn't a trap." Ziyi muttered when silence had once again overtaken them for awhile. Xukun nodded in agreement. They had both mulled over the idea of joining or staying back when it was first offered to them. Eventually, both decided on going along with it. Mask knew where the studio and apartment was. But, now that the tracker was cut out, there was no way to know where Xukun was if he left those locations. It gave them a sense of comfort despite the unpredictability behind Yanjun's fickle nature. In the end, the ball was in his court, because if Yanjun was lying, and he still was with Mask, then the two could still be found as he could easily pass on their location. If he was telling the truth, however, and he really did change, they were out of the cult's eye.

Both Xukun and Ziyi quaffed down the uncertainty, because where there was uncertainty, there was a chance at survival. At home, Mask knew where they were. There was no doubt of that. In joining the outing, completely depending on Yanjun's word, there came a possibility– albeit small, at escape. Because if Yanjun was honest, and they returned safely that night, they could eliminate him as a probable enemy. It was 100% versus 50%, and they chose the fifty. So they joined along. 

Xukun looked at the other for a moment. Despite the discouraging situation they had been dragged into, he felt immense comfort knowing he wasn't alone. The six months he had spent without Ziyi were the worst six months of his life. The most difficult. The most arduous. He wouldn't be able to live through them again.

The blonde didn't realize that he had said it aloud until he noticed Ziyi's expression. And he could only be thankful that the coming darkness hid his reddening cheeks. 

"It was hard for me too." Ziyi responded when the initial surprise at confession had petered to understanding. Xukun met eyes with him again.  
"Really?" He whispered almost inaudibly.  
"Of course. I worried about you everyday, you know, in that place." He cocked his head back– in the general direction of the forest, unironically. Xukun shuddered when he caught sight of the bilious mass of chalk-like landscape. He immediately returned to the man standing before him, and he thought that maybe this was the time to express to the other how he really felt about him. How important and special he was. _It'll be easy,_ Xukun thought to himself, because he had nothing to lose under his current circumstances, _Ziyi, I…_

"Ziyi, I need to tell you something."  
"Yeah?"

There were three outcomes, Xukun concluded. The first, that Yanjun lied and they were brought back to Mask. If that were the case, the world would truly end for them. But at least, he thought, he would have told the elder his true feelings before they were dragged back into the gates of hell. The second outcome was that Yanjun was honest and they returned to their ordinary lives. If he told Ziyi and the other accepted his feelings, things would truly be euphoric. This was the least likely, Xukun quickly recognized. The last outcome was returning to their apartment safe and trusting, but that Ziyi didn't accept or understand his feelings. That their friendship would be forever tainted and they would slowly grow apart because of the tension that would ensue. The last option dawned on him like darkness cloaked daylight. 

Xukun gulped.

"Nevermind." _You coward._ "Let's go back before they start looking for us." He said. Ziyi hesitated for a moment before nodding reluctantly. They returned and waited for fate to guide them away. 

***

Yanjun pushed passed the doors to the building. He caught a glimpse of Zhengting and Wenjun with some food from the counter before scurrying for the washroom.

"Hey, Yanjun, did you want me to order anything for you?" Chaoze called from the line. Yanjun felt his head spin relentlessly. He blinked a few times before sputtering an answer.  
"No thanks," he said before turning the corner. The man needed a quiet place to be alone with his thoughts for a moment. Important affairs would unravel that night and he had somehow managed to make things even more complicated. Once he got into the washroom he pulled at the sink handle and splashed himself with cold water over and over and over again– anything to get his lips to stop _burning_. Being away from the cold was so foreign- too foreign. 

_But he kissed you too._ An inner voice told him. _He kissed you back. It's not like last time._

Yanjun looked at himself in the mirror suddenly. Years had passed him. Years. His eyes were so murky that even he found immense trouble in seeing through them. He wondered momentarily when exactly was the last time he could– if he ever could, for that matter. When the tap was slammed shut, he heard faint breathing from another, and quickly came to the realization that he was not alone. His eyes flickered down the mirror, and through it, he caught a glimpse of another shadow on the other side of the room. 

"Everything okay?" Yanchen sounded, but the question lacked a certain release of sincerity. Yanjun furrowed his brows. He wasn't too fond of the man who always questioned him. It was to find the truth, yes, but unlike Zhangjing, it didn't come from a place of kindness. It was anomalous in a way that bled of unsolicited curiosity. He clenched his jaw.  
"Just fine." He replied, keeping a bitter taste locked within his mouth.  
"Really? You look like something's bothering you." The other pushed.  
"I'm just tired. It was a lengthy drive." Yanjun shrugged the pressing question off his shoulder. Yanchen stared into his eyes for a moment, the same way he had done only seconds ago. The other was trying to see through that nebulous haze, and Yanjun didn't appreciate the gesture one bit. 

"Looking for something, Mister Psych-major?" Yanjun joked with a customary grin. He didn't just dislike the gesture, he decided, because dislike was too soft a word. He detested it.  
"And Soc. How'd you know?"  
"Chaoze told me a little about you guys." Yanjun shrugged again as he left to get paper towel for his dripping face. Yanchen turned on his heels.  
"And you?"  
"Business and marketing." The man replied nonchalantly. But despite the termed friendliness of the conversation, there came an undisguisable conflict lingering finely between the lines. "Interesting," Yanchen smiled and turned for the exit. The upturned lip tipped in a way that was both intrigued and eccentric. Yanjun stomached it as a taunt, and raised a single, curious eyebrow at the scene.  
"What is?" He asked almost demanding– almost– he managed to swallow his eagerness.

Yanchen stopped only once and cocked his head back.  
"You're probably the best liar I've ever met." He said before he disappeared behind the corner.

Yanjun stood still, stunned at the final blow. Several questions shot through his mind at once– _does he know? How much? How could he? Will he be a threat? Will he fuck up my plans? Impossible._ He finally concluded. It was impossible. Everything was running smoothly until that point, and the time of action would arrive in just a few hours. Still, he didn't appreciate being rattled while on the doorstep to success. He clenched the paper towel in his hand and banged a fist against the wall. That Yanchen really would have been a pain in the ass if Yanjun had dragged out the mission any longer. 

It was a good thing, then, that in a few hours it would come to it's fortunate end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is my first time ever writing a kiss scene in a fanfic (aside from the small one in Yanjun's backstory) and as you can see I'm a whole noob at it so hopefully I improve along the wayyy


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final moments before the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to pump this chapter in cause I've had no inspiration recently. Ugh. I had to kind of force myself to finish this chapter and I did it really quickly so please excuse the multitude of rushed scenes (especially at the end). School and work are taking up a lot of time and because I'm stressed I have no inspiration to write at all. I've had writers block for the past several days. Feels bad man. 
> 
> Anyway this chapter is a bit bland but it is the final lead up before the climax so it's important nevertheless. I wanted to establish a bond between them before they faced destruction.

The following hour wrapped up with little to no chatter, as every individual was either immersed in the movie or acutely aware of the dicey situation they were webbed in. The ones who felt uneasy kept themselves in a strained silence, eyes flailing compulsively in their inability to placate themselves. Every second passed in such sluggish manner it almost felt cruel. The day was slipping away like fine grains of sand in an hourglass and all they could do was _wait._

When the movie had finally finished, the vehicles began clearing out of the venue one by one. Once the site had been suitably vacated, and they were left unaccompanied in the locale, Yanjun turned to the others. He reminded them of the campsite and they left in the opposite direction of the other cars, pulling themselves even further away from any source of contact– or life, for that matter. They drove for only a few minutes, but for those few minutes they were surrounded by nothing but exanimate trees and a colorless landscape. There came an uncanny realization that life was being abandoned by them. The eldritch quietude only reaffirmed the idea. In a medley of confusion, anticipation and anxiety, the men stayed equally silent for the ride. 

Yanjun finally slowed to a stop at the edge of the forest. Zeren parked behind him. The sky was completely soaked in ink and the moon enshrouded by dark clouds. The world was tainted in black, and when the lights from the vehicles went out, so were the men. Yanjun ushered then inside in the woods. Some followed blindly, others felt something cold coil inside their stomachs. As they allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness, they followed the sounds breaking out around them. With every step twigs snapped like bones under their feet and the icy grass shriveled like weakened ligaments. They passed a battered sign carved with writing, but nobody cared enough to make out what it said. Nobody except for Xukun, that is. Yanjun also knew all too well that it spelled out the letters of his last name. He didn't say a word. The blonde felt his stomach unfurl at the sight. It seemed that Yanjun really was reaching back to his past. And that only proved him to be honest in his words.

"Where are we going?" Yanchen finally questioned when they drove deeper into the forest. The trees were tall and with every step, any sign of sky dissipated above them. They were enclosed within the woodland's grip. Zhengting adjusted himself uncomfortably.   
"You'll see." Yanjun replied with a small grin. Zeren and Chaoze beamed at the mystery. Zhengting shuddered.  
"Why are we going now? It's so cold and dark out." He muttered more to himself as he looked around himself tentatively. He looked for a place where the richness of trees might subside, but found none. Instead they loomed over him, rustling a cackle and holding him deep inside their clutch. Zhengting never did like the dark. He felt a sudden tight grip on his shoulder and let out a small yelp. When he turned, he saw Xukun cackling at the reaction he got. His head was thrown back and there was an impish glint in his eyes. The anxiety that the blonde previously felt surrounding Yanjun fell like dead skin around his ankles and he reveled in the small bounds of relief being pumped through his veins by his mind. 

"Scared of the dark, sweetheart?" Xukun joked with a playful grin. Zhengting gave him a look.  
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that!" He hissed. Xukun shrugged.  
"It grew on me, and don't you think it suits you?"   
"No," the other rebuffed with a pouty huff. Xukun chuckled again, this time softly. He pushed his shoulder against Zhengting's.   
"Relax. I'm just teasing." He whispered. Zhengting simply huffed once more and sped forward, hooking his arm around Zhangjing's. After a moment of silence, Xukun felt the steps next to him grow heavier. 

"Since when do you call him sweetheart?" Ziyi asked, his wonted mellow tone laced in something rigid and alien. Xukun almost didn't recognize the indignation. He paused in his steps before answering.   
"Just a nickname I gave him when we first met– I guess," he answered with a small shrug. Ziyi grunted in response and left it at that, continuing on. Xukun blinked, then followed. 

Not long after, they came across a small cabin in the middle of the woods. It was old and untouched for years, but managed to remain sturdy and in good enough condition. On the outside, the only indication of its abandonment would be chipped, cerulean paint and the bundles of muck resting around the windows. It was large enough to specify that it must have been owned by someone living in decent opulence. Yanjun cringed. In spite of the termed luxury being wrung into their minds, there came the eerie realization of how excluded the cabin really was. It wasn't an average cottage– for a multitude of cynical reasons. Yanjun caught anything threatening his throat and swallowed it. The sight probed at his memories and he had to adjust himself before moving forward to face what was waiting for him inside. 

"How do you even know about this place?" Zhengting questioned as he looked around.   
"My dad used to rent this place out every summer when I was a kid. He eventually bought it. I think." Yanjun replied. The fact that it obviously hadn't been touched in years gave him the confidence he needed to head towards the entrance. The man pried open the door and walked inside. It was dark and cold. However, despite the amount of time spent away from the cabin, Yanjun recognized the smell all too well. It bombarded his memories again and he flinched once. As the others filed in, he caught himself in a frown.

"Spooky," Zeren muttered as he looked around the deserted place. Everyone began examining and exploring the place out of sheer curiosity. They quickly came to realize that neither electricity nor plumbing worked. The kitchen was empty of food and the flower vase carried only the trace of black, wilted roots. Yanjun vaguely remembered when they had been tulips. 

"Hey, Yanjun, isn't this you?" He heard Chaoze ask from another room. Yanjun immediately followed the voice. They arrived at a bedroom, and in his hands, Chaoze held a portrait. He handed it to the other. Yanjun studied it. It was the same one he had shattered the moment he left his father behind. The last action he took before closing the door that would separate himself from the monster he had wanted to run from since childhood. The one from an old camping trip in that exact location. His frown deepened. He stared at the crooked smile over his face within the picture. Even then, he knew it had been forced. Even then, he had been veiling his true emotions. Yanjun decided that he didn't, in fact, know _who_ the boy was in the picture. It looked like him physically, but in soul it wasn't. The boy's soul was slaughtered in that portrait. 

"Yes," he countered his thoughts aloud. "That was me." _Was._   
Chaoze seemed to feel the tension and nodded, turning back to the main room.   
"Weren't we going to do a campfire?" Zeren called from upstairs, where he had been roaming around.  
"Yeah, there's a pit outside." Yanjun replied. And they all followed him to it. He mentioned the need of firewood, and went out to get some from a pile he knew his father kept stored deeper into the forest.   
"I'll help." Wenjun offered as he followed after the other. Yanjun hesitated at first, uneasy about leaving Ziyi and Xukun without supervision from either of them. He eventually nodded, and resolved that although the two men weren't tied around his fingers, they were fooled enough not to leave. _Besides,_ he thought, _it's not like they'll just get up and run in front of everyone._

After a few minutes, Yanjun came across a pile of firewood originally stacked by his father many years prior. Wenjun began picking them up.   
"Yanjun," he started, immediately voicing his concern as he concluded that the moment would be the last they spent alone together before their mission reached its climax. "How exactly do you plan on getting them to join? I mean– we both knew it would be a little more forceful with Ziyi and Xukun, but what about the rest? I don't want them to think of Mask as a bad place, and if they're forced they might just." 

Yanjun sighed, placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose and pressing his lips into a thin line. It was something he dithered over as well, but relented from taking any form of action to fix it. He didn't have _time._ They were already causing inconvenience with the length it took and the addition of members. The man expressed just that.  
"We don't have the time to think about the details right now, Wenjun. I'll contact them when I think the time is right and they'll come prepared. My only task is getting Zhangjing away before they come. Frankly, I'm not too worried about the rest of them. Mask will know how to handle it."   
"Then why–"  
"I just want to take Zhangjing myself. For my own reasons. Now finish getting the firewood so we can get back to them." Yanjun ordered as he started back for the firepit. 

Wenjun bit his lip, but nodded nonetheless. They returned back to the place and started the fire.

Yanjun stared into the flames as he propped the final piece of wood inside it. He dallied as he positioned it atop the others, purposefully tempting the flames. The heat threatened his fingers with long, salmon licks, but failed to latch onto them. Yajun pulled his hand back with a phlegmatic disposition. As a child, he had loathed them. His parents had used them destructively on numerous occasions, and he found himself divagating away from them for that reason. He realized then that without an aggressor to exploit them, weapons weren't so menacing. He clenched his hand and allowed the lingering heat to seep into his skin. It did without a trace. Only recently did he begin to take pleasure in the warmth rather than dwell over the burn. 

Once it was started, they took their seats around it and huddled close to the sparkling flames. Zhangjing and Zeren quickly passed around leftover snacks from the movie before settling down themselves. Yanjun found himself sitting at the opposite end of Zhangjing. He had done so purposefully, as he had been avoiding any close contact since the stunt he had pulled earlier on in the evening. He watched Zhangjing place his head on Zhengting's shoulder, and regretted his decision immediately afterwards. 

"Okay, for the social aspect Zeren offered we ask questions and take turns answering. We could get to know each other better and maybe find things we have in common. Or, it could lead to a deeper conversation." Chaoze said with a smile. Yanjun stiffened at the offer. The notion of a friendly game became obsessive interrogation. He was reminded of the first time he had been put in that situation, and how it had circled back to him again. His gaze met Zhangjing's once, who, surprisingly, met his. The elder was the first to look away. Yanjun frowned.

"Sounds interesting." Zhangjing spoke, huddled near the fire. The rest gave vague nods of agreement.   
"Okay, I'll start I guess," Zeren shrugged. "If you had to go out with anyone here, who–"  
"Next!" Zhengting interrupted from beside him. He rubbed his temple to abstain from scolding the other. Zeren sighed.   
"Alright, let's start with this, what's everyone most passionate about?" Chaoze asked. "For me, it's probably my goals." Everyone fell silent for a moment.  
"Easy, dance." Zeren finally decided.   
"My family." Zhengting decided soon after.  
"Me too." Wenjun quickly joined.   
The other five fell silent. Finally, Yanchen shrugged.  
"I want to succeed in my future career and my aspirations." He said. After the first silence, it seemed that everyone was quick to admit their answers. They came simple and inexplict. 

"I think I just want to find happiness with all the people around me." Zhangjing admitted bluntly. Zhengting immediately pinched the man's cheek as he cooed at the answer. Yanjun couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. He wondered momentarily if he would ever pinch the other's cheek as well. If he and the man would ever become close enough to do that. Or if that was something only Zhengting could do, because of his personality. Maybe it would be weird if he did it, Yanjun thought. As he rolled himself within his musings, they were broken by a sharp tongue. 

"Having the freedom to do whatever the hell I want." Xukun shot sourly, his eyes were burning against Yanjun's cheek. The latter didn't look back, and instead pretended he couldn't feel the fire.   
"Ziyi? Yanjun?" Chaoze asked. The first mentioned bit his lip.  
"It's a difficult question." Ziyi admitted. The others nodded understandingly, and Chaoze briefly mentioned something about being young and having time to grow and develop as a person. Yanjun didn't say a thing.

"Xukun has an interesting answer, though." Yanchen noted with a grin. He faced the blonde before speaking again, this time addressing him personally rather than giving a general remark. "You tend to be quite shy around us in the studio, but your answer was full of energy."  
"He's not shy." Ziyi quickly roused before Xukun could reply himself. "Not when he starts to open up– he's actually quite a handful when he does."  
Xukun stared back with his jaw dropped.   
"Am not!" He countered.   
"You know, I do get the feeling that he's not showing us everything he is." Zhengting said. And for a moment, Xukun was silent. He knew the man still questioned him after all this time. They got along better than before, yes, but the strain never dissolved. Zhengting showed him a gentle smile. "Maybe that's okay." He admitted with a simple shrug. Everyone fell silent. Zeren's jaw slacked.

"Oh my god, Zhengting are you– you're finally getting along with him!" Zeren beamed.   
"What?" The other spun his head around speedily. "No I– I was just saying he's– you know, I was just saying!" The man shot back.   
"Looks like I finally grew on you." Xukun played with a small smirk. The gentle smile that was previously present warped itself into an expression that was rather unamusing.   
"Hey, don't be so cocky." He warned.   
"Whatever you say swee–OW!" Xukun rubbed his head where Zhengting had thrown one of the chocolates he had been munching on.  
"You're stronger than you look." He muttered almost proudly. The others gave a small chuckle at the scene. 

"What are you guys looking forward to this summer?" Zhangjing asked amicably. A multitude of answers were offered instantly. And Yanjun found himself looking forward to doing all the things they began planning for the summer. He quickly caught himself and shook his head. It wasn't an option. The simple questions went on for several minutes, some coming with laughs and others with understanding nods. 

"If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would you pick?" Yanchen asked when they were all getting tired and the fire dwindled to small sparks. Everyone looked drowsy save for Yanjun, who was drumming his foot against the grass that felt unnaturally dense within the frost.   
"Yanjun?" He asked, "you haven't answered any of the questions yet."   
The other stopped his drumming before he spoke.  
"I don't know." He snapped, breaking the peacefulness that had been established thus far. It came much more aggressively than he had intended it to. The hairs were sticking up on the back of his neck. The time was close. He took in a deep breath to steady himself.

"I-I don't know…" he said, softly this time. Because he really didn't. He glanced at Zhangjing before flickering his gaze back at the fire. It had gone out, however, before he could catch the final spark.

"Yanjun is probably just cranky because he's tired- we all are." Zeren sounded. His head was resting on Yanchen's shoulder and his eyes were shut closed. "Ugh, I'm too tired to drive." He whined childishly.  
"Let's rest in the cabin and leave tomorrow morning." Yanjun offered quietly, his eyes still fixated on the vestige of smoke before him. "I had anticipated that this might happen- it's fine, nobody has been here for awhile." He added.   
"Honestly, that sounds pretty good right now." Chaoze added as he stood and began stretching his arms. And it seemed that with the first man's acceptance, the other's quickly caved. 

Everyone made their way into the cabin and fell into the few beds and couches within it. All were shared by multiple, as several of them were faced with an undersupply of places to retire. They snuggled together and drowned themselves within both the blankets they brought and the few left within the cabin. It was already late then. Yanjun glimpsed at the time, which reported that they had already doven into the early morning hours. Once he concluded everyone's settlement, as well as the quelling of Ziyi and Xukun's fraught, he quickly snatched Zhangjing and guided him to a couch close to the door. When all were asleep, they would be brought to Mask. He decided that he himself would take Zhangjing before Mask arrived. And to prevent waking the others, Zhangjing needed to be both near him and near the door. The final strings of his plan were finally gravitating towards each other, and yet the other couldn't warrant the absurd ignominy festering within the pit of his stomach. The man immediately came to regret the kiss they had had earlier. It made the act a thousand times more awkward. He wished he didn't care as much as he did.

"We can just sleep here." He pointed to the couch weakly, barely lifting his arm before letting it drop to his side again. "There's no space anywhere else– it's not that bad it–it would just be for some rest–"  
"Okay." Zhangjing interrupted sleepily as he shuffled into the couch. Yanjun followed and quickly realized that there would be no way to separate themselves. Thankfully, the smaller didn't make it seem humiliating, perhaps because he was too exhausted to. He simply settled his arm around the other and pressed himself against him. They had only just settled, but Yanjun could already tell that the smaller was halfway to slumber. He stiffened. 

He _should_ be delighted, the man conjectured. For the possibility for failure at that point in the mission was so low it was simply ludicrous to stew as he did. Everything and everyone was placed in such meticulous order it would seem ridiculous to some. Weeks of work would lead to a perfect victory. He would win. 

So why, then, did he feel something sinister unfurl in the pit of his gut?

"Zhangjing– I'm scared." He whispered in a croak before he could stop himself. One voice wished Zhangjing was asleep and didn't hear– another hoped for the contrary.  
"About what?" The other murmured with a yawn almost immediately. Yanjun only bit his tongue once, then decided, _fuck it._ He would be rewarded that day regardless. And something had been on his mind for an extensive amount of time. It crawled with a stabbing, unrestrained force and scratched at his insides. He wanted nothing more than to let it bleed out.   
"About _this._ " Yanjun continued. "The day you– the day we rekindled I thought that letting myself open up would be okay, but I don't understand how I'm supposed to do it– or– or where I'm supposed to stop." 

"You don't have to stop." Zhangjing muttered, still in a daze of sleep. Yanjun clenched his eyes shut as he shook his head. He was narrowly avoiding the blunt revelation of his worries until then. He wallowed himself in the fact that it would all come to an end anyway, and decided to face them head on.   
"I'm scared of myself, Zhangjing." The man finally admitted. And he could almost feel his lungs scream at the notion. Zhangjing perked his head up at the statement, now completely alert.  
"What? Why?"  
Yanjun took in a deep breath.  
"I told you before– I can't control my emotions unless I suppress _all of them._ If I open up even a little I– you _saw_ how angry I got on that day, when you came over and we argued. I lost control. And again earlier today– if I try to let my emotions take control it's so hard to stop them Zhangjing. It's _so hard_. It's ridiculously hard." 

Zhangjing simply hummed in response.   
"Your emotions have been suppressed for too long, they're just amplified now because of that."

"What if I become like my father?" Yanjun whispered. The words released so breathy and quick that it could easily be misheard. Zhangjing, however, did not mishear the statement. He stiffened when Yanjun went on. "It makes sense, right? He also put on a facade all day, then, when his emotions came after the repression they'd come amplified. It lead to aggression, Zhangjing, what if- what if I become like that. I can't– I– I can't imagine it I–" 

"Yanjun," Zhangjing started, "just take some deep breaths, okay?" He put a hand on Yanjun's chest and felt it rise and fall slowly. Then, he took a moment to collect his thoughts, choosing his next words carefully.   
"You're not like your father, you're nothing like him. You're Lin Yanjun, and there's nobody else like you. Your father found control in hurting people when he lost it, but you've never done that-" he hesitated for a moment before pushing forth with his thoughts. "It just seems that what you're looking for is affection. When you lost control that day, you stopped yelling after I hugged you, and you found resolve in kissing me. When we talked last time, and you were pouring out your emotions, you didn't lift a finger. You walked away, then we hugged. And again today, when we...when we kissed, it was a strive for affection." He bit his lip. "What you lash out is _love_ Yanjun, not pain." 

There was a moment of silence after that. Yanjun closed his eyes, delicately this time. He felt the hand on his chest warm his heart and his breaths fell steady and relaxed. He bathed in a recalcitrant diversion from what he was meant to do. Staying alert would be difficult if he continued succumbing to the warmth, but he did so anyway. Only a fraction of conscience held him from complete unwinding. It came in an echoing voice that reminded him of his entire reason for being there. Yanjun swallowed. 

"Thank you." He murmured simply. And he pulled the other in closer. No other words were expressed on the topic. And after several minutes of quietude, Yanjun felt Zhangjing fall asleep on his chest. After about another hour, when he decided it would be safe to move onto the final step, he took out his phone and dialed the familiar number. Someone picked up right away, and only a single word was exchanged. 

"Now." He whispered into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna write out Xukun + Ziyi's backstory next because they're meant to be the protagonists and we're 14 chapters in without a backstory looool. It'll probably last about 2-3 chapters. :) 
> 
> It'll be quite morbid (like Yanjun's) and I'm still trying to figure out how I want to go about it because it will deal with more sensitive themes.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xukun and Ziyi's backstory: Part 1/4 (Xukun's arc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNINGS***: this chapter very much allude's to/suggests rape/non-con against a teenager. The act is NOT depicted or detailed, however, there are scenes leading up to the moment that indicate it happened. There is also the depiction of self-harm. Please read at your own risk and heed the warnings + this fix is rated M for a reason (I said this fic was morbid and I meant it).

Down the hill, hidden behind a forest of emerald pine and roasted-umber trunks, stood a hallowed building. It was sizeable enough that one might get lost if they were to arrive for the very first time. The ones living within it noticed over time that it wasn't, in fact, monumental, but rather decepted children into believing it was. The seclusion was equivocal enough, but in winter, it was all the more mysterious. The corporation that considered itself perpetually immaculate found itself covered in thick piles of snow. During the day, the flakes seemed to fly with attractive grace. Veiled under nights that were especially dark, however, they fell disharmonious. Their minds changed–the children decided–capricious speed seemed to almost mock the incessant habit formed indoors. 

The world within the building, for one, always worked in meticulous formula. It never strayed from that system, and the arbitrary nature of whatever lay outside largely contrasted that regimen when it was spurned from crows' eyes. The only thing that might be sporadic indoors was the sudden disappearance of some of the children. But nobody spoke about that.

The orphanage was a two story building with an old playground and a barn that opened when spring mustered the courage to tiptoe back into light. The orphaned children found that they enjoyed the spring more than winter. This was because in spring, they could run around and play outside. In winter, however, they were confined to the horrors that occurred indoors. The esoteric answers behind every disappearance and emotional shift between the children felt distressfully amplified. There was little escape from the heavy drumming of footsteps outside their bedroom doors. The absence of such only alluded to a higher possibility of that sound the coming night. They all knew about those footsteps. They stayed silent about it anyway. 

Cai Xukun joined the orphanage at the age of six. He vaguely remembered bouncing from place to place before settling within the building webbed in the cluster of pine. One thing he appreciated instantaneously was the number of others within the faculty. Being around others who lived similarly to him gave the boy a fragile sense of community that he had not experienced before. And he grew unhealthily attached to that sense. Xukun was lucky–he realized when he got older–he was lucky that he first joined in summer, when the barn was filled with animals and the playground was open for frolicing. He was lucky that he wouldn't notice those penetrating footsteps until later. Until they impacted him personally. 

The boy made many close relations there, and despite every childs' lack of family, they found comfort in each other. When one would be adopted, they dismissed the pang of jealousy threatening their chests and bed the adoptee luck in their future and wished them pure bliss in the journey that awaited. Xukun didn't mind staying behind after awhile, as it meant he could spend more time with the boy he had gotten particularly close with. An older boy named Zhou Rui. The elder had taken Xukun under his wing when the younger had first entered the building. As taken aback at the smaller was during their first encounter, he quickly grew fond of the attitude Zhou Rui voiced. It deviated from the meticulous perfection emitted by the corporation, and something about that fact made Xukun feel safe from robotic pattern. Everything he did was rebellious. To his long hair, which nobody else aside from him was permitted to keep at length, to his childish comments. He was simply living freely.

"Nun Gretchen is a fucking bitch, by the way, so stay the hell away from her," the 12-year-old Zhou Rui had told Xukun one day, "but Nun Maria is a softie, you ask for an extra cookie or bun with your cute, irresistible eyes and she'll coo over them in a matter of seconds. You can bet she'll give you anything you ask her. Go on—do it."

Zhou Rui had initially nudged, then, quite literally, pushed the smaller boy towards the mentioned seconds after those words were released. The younger sifted through his lines as he crept forth, nervously fidgeting his small, clammy hands. A few moments later, Xukun returned. The bombardment of ebullient sounds that left the older's lips assured the younger that he had succeeded in his mission. And so, they both raved over getting some extra snacks. The two boys bonded that day, and their friendship only grew since. Something Xukun quickly caught onto was that Zhou Rui was impish in nature, and tended to get scolded a lot. Xukun liked it—that the man didn't care for the rules. Joking around with the other made him forget that everyday was another day without adoption. That they weren't 'good little boys' who followed rules and dressed adequately for the expectant parents. He loved that playful jokes quivered under their tongues during mass while the other children prayed obediently. They ran from institutionalized obedience. The scolding and eventual punishment was routine.

Xukun remembered one day in particular, four years after their initial bonding. Zhou Rui had pulled a prank on one of the Nuns—one that stretched farther than any other, and ended up being dragged to the Main Priest's office. Xukun only faintly heard the beginning of the conversation.

"You can't keep doing this-"  
"He's a bad impression-"  
"Maybe this is why you're 16 and haven't been adopted yet-" 

When the final line was uttered, Nun Gretchen had noticed Xukun outside the slightly opened door and stalked over to him. She grabbed him by the ear and dragged him away, slamming the door shut behind them. He got slapped, then scolded. But he didn't care. He waited for Zhou Rui to return in the shared room.

The elder only arrived very late at night. 

"Zhou Rui!" Xukun exclaimed, jumping from his bed. The other looked at him broodingly, the familial smirk seemed uncomfortably distant. Xukun frowned. The boy then walked up to Xukun and touched his cheek where it had been slapped. There was a faint handprint. He ran his fingers against it for a moment before giving the younger a faint smirk- an echo of the one he did before.  
"Told you she was a bitch." He muttered before falling into the mattress next to the younger. Xukun didn't reply, thinking he was probably tired. A scolding had never ruptured the elder before, anyway. He realized later that he should have asked.

Because the next morning, Zhou Rui was gone. 

Xukun didn't know at first—why the older kids would suddenly look so beaten or never return to the dining hall again. He didn't understand the loss of appetite and sleep, the forfeiture of a once bright and hopeful spirit. In spite of this, like every other child, he abstained from any inquiry regarding the subject. There was an unvocalized realization that it might be easier if one didn't know every secret. Once Zhou Rui had left, though, Xukun gathered the courage to ask one of the Nuns about it. He was blunt when addressing the topic, his bravery fueled by the thought of losing a friend. The words left in a breath of fire, but he was immediately scolded. Given no reply, and understanding he would never receive one was enough to convince himself to never ask again. In the back of his mind, though, a sharp, acerbic wonder punctured his thoughts. The psychedelic liquid that emerged would rot into something rancor. He wished with all his might to spit it out, but he couldn't. So he decided on simply following in his friend's footsteps. If the elusive answers remained eclipsed, the least he could do was be a constant reminder of Zhou Rui's mystery. As such, Xukun continued as Zhou Rui did, ignoring the rules and causing ruckus for all the adults who wronged him. He gladly accepted the title as the most strenuous child to control.

During winter, he would still hear those heavy footsteps down the hall. The pressing curiosity and resentment for them tickled his fingertips. But the boy clenched his fists and waited. He held his breath when they came, wondering everytime who they were for—if they would ever be for him. But they always passed him. 

Then, he himself turned 15. 

He was sent to the Head Priest's office a week after his birthday. The look on the Nun's face was regretting when she told him. And he felt something sinister coil inside his stomach. Whatever waited for him obviously wasn't anything good. When he arrived, the boy knocked on the door hesitantly, and when he heard a muffled "come in," he shuffled inside gingerly. The room was small, but well-kept. Aligning the walls were shelves of religious books, multiple of which were the same copy of the bible. Adorning every wall was a sculpture of a man pinned against a cross, and numerous, graphic paintings hung between them. Xukun studied the area for a moment, a weak attempt at delaying what had to be said. 

The priest had his fingers locked together, elbows pressed against the desk. His bulgy nose dug itself down against them as he kept his large, crow-like eyes on the desk. Xukun stood silently. He didn't dare speak. 

"You're 15 now, Xukun." The man started bluntly. Xukun frowned at first, finding the statement rather dubious–and obvious at that. He nodded slowly.  
"And yet, you still haven't been adopted." Was what sent the teenager's lungs to his toes. He knew, but the bluntness of the comment made it seem realer than he had convinced himself it was. The priest picked off his rectangular glasses and placed them on the wooden desk. He still did not dare look at the boy. The guilt was pouring out of his sooty irises like blood from an open wound. Consequently, his attempt at hiding that accountability fell flat. So he went on, getting the conversation over with.  
"You know, it's very rare to be adopted in your teenage years. Families, they—they prefer someone younger. Someone they can watch grow up." His eyes flickered to the boy's once. The warmth they emitted on the first day Xukun arrived was replaced with pure abhorrence. 

"You've already grown up, Xukun." 

The words were like a punch in the stomach, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, Xukun already knew. He knew it was too late for him. His birthday was celebrated and he had a nice day, but even then, he had internalized the fact that he was getting older. And as he got older, his chances at familial life grew scarcer. It didn't help that when most reached their later-teenage years, then disappeared from the orphanage without a word. Xukun gulped, assuming they had been kicked out for their inconvenience, and that it would be the same for him. 

"I've always tried to save you, but you never listened. Maybe the devil really is inside you." He muttered rather regretfully. Xukun stiffened when he stood. He looked into the boy's eyes, then sighed, shutting them away once again.  
"I don't think I can save you. They will come get you tonight." He said before dismissing the boy. And Xukun really had no clue what he meant by this. He left the room in a curious daze.

When night came, the boy sat at the end of his bed anxiously. The ends of his fingernails were chipped from incessant biting and were stained of both metallic crimson and thick saliva. His teeth continued at them tirelessly even when he felt the marred flesh tear and peel away. His throat was incredibly dry and began to burn under the anxiety. He continued nevertheless. He continued until he heard the drumming of footsteps approaching. They came in their familiar, low echoes. The rhythmic reverberation that the nuns and priests worked in faltered to something uncalculated and animalistic. Xukun held his breath. This time, they stopped in front of his door. He hated the sound and often prayed for it to disappear. When it halted at his door, however, he suddenly found himself wishing it would go on. That they'd resume their walk until they faded away and he would fall to slumber. Unfortunately, it was not the case. 

The door creaked open and a few men walked in. They wore dark clothing made of material Xukun had never seen anyone wear before. Their skin was open under the mass of leather, thus revealing a coat of ink garnishing that nakedness. Xukun felt his face scrunch up and he coughed, feeling that they smelled too strongly of some kind of—he didn't know which—recreational drugs.  
"This the kid?" One carrying a rough voice muttered. The shadow of a priest nodded from behind the entrance. Then, without any warning, Xukun was grabbed by the arm and hoisted to his feet. He was being pulled out the door and down the hall. All the while he turned to the priest for some kind of explanation. None came. 

He was promptly pushed out the door to face a cold gush of air, and was enveloped within it. He felt the biting frost slip under his pajamas and clutch his skin. The manner in which it worked to touch every inch felt poisonous and labored in vicious cycles. Xukun suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation of both his presence as well as his nakedness. The nudity, he realized, was one of both mind and body. He came to internalize just how unconnected the orphanage was to anything outside. The facility veiled him from the bitter truth. One, he concluded, of any world outside his confinement. When he made to look back to the orphanage, he was pushed in a truck and squeezed between two of the men. They drove off without a word. Xukun didn't mutter a syllable, as the shock was still steadily travelling to his mouth. Something about the way a hand kept massaging his thigh gave him a redoubtable idea. He tried to suppress it. They only travelled a minute or two before the car came to an abrupt stop. He was then pulled out again and found himself in the woods. Despite the darkness, he recognized his surroundings as the mask of pine that stretched around the orphanage. They were not far from home. 

Once they had stumbled around the area for a minute or two, they came across a wooden door on the ground. It was pulled open and there was a staircase leading underneath. Xukun gulped. He was very cold. And very far away from comfort. It was hard to stomach that he was still so close to the place he called home. Once he was pulled inside and the door closed above him, he realized that it was not the crisp wind that tickled his skin. It was, rather, the daunting fear of what would occur that night. 

Xukun found himself in the corner of the cave-like room. The other men remained by the staircase at first, merely watching the younger as though his disorientation were humorous. Shrouded in discomfiture, the boy hunched into himself. His back scraped against the corner and he quickly realized there was no escape aside from the staircase on the other side. The one being barricaded by oaf-like men. Xukun's eyes darted across the room, this time studying the furniture rather than an evade. Inside the old thing there was only a ragged bed chained to the wall by heavy iron shackles. The room was empty besides that. The men chattered between themselves for a moment before looking at back Xukun. The boy's eyes met cold, lifeless ones and he realized the perilous danger he was in. One of them started for him. 

"What are you doing? Where are we?" Xukun demanded. He was rather proud of how brave it sounded, because inside he was shaking with fear. The man showed a malicious smirk, crooked, yellowed teeth peeking into sight. His skin was coloured in sooted paper and his face contorted into a strange, sort of feral expression. One that seemed all too beastly and carnal for Xukun's personal liking. The man swept back his own long, greasy, coal-coloured locks from his eyes as he approached. A better view of the boy was what he wanted, and the action revealed the extent of his senselessness. When he spoke, his voice was low and mindless—as though the process had been done countless times before. Xukun shuttered at the sound, never hearing anything like it before. It seemed, he thought, almost _inhuman._  
"It'll be a lot faster and easier if you don't ask questions," the man replied simply. 

The stranger finally stopped in front of the smaller, and the teen pushed himself impossibly further against the wall. He could feel heavy, rancid breaths against his forehead and wished nothing more than to return to being reprimanded by nuns and forced to attend longer mass as his punishments. It all seemed so far away despite being only a couple minutes' drive further down. Suddenly, he could acutely feel his innocence being splintered. 

"This should be a treat, we haven't had such a pretty one in awhile," the man murmured, his fat, sausage-like thumb gliding against the boy's jaw. The boy could feel the flaps of dead, peeling flesh from the stale coat of his skin and immediately slapped his hand away.  
"Don't touch me!" He snapped furiously. It came ferocious again, and he found the courage and shift to the left and slip passed the man. Just as he went for the door, however, he bumped into another. This one was stocky, but strong. He threw the teen back further into the room once more.  
"We've got a fighter." The second man said with a sigh. He didn't seem all that disappointed, though. In fact, Xukun could hear distinct pleasure and delirium echoe behind the sigh. He felt himself begin to shake. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around himself and curl into a corner. He didn't. The boy was stubborn about keeping the fierce attitude he had emitted thus far. He furrowed his brows. 

"Does Father know you've brought me here? He'll come looking—you'll all be in trouble by morning." Xukun countered breathlessly—the fear finally catching up to his throat. A loud, derisive cackle echoed around the room at the statement.  
"Stupid brat," the first spat, "that priest is the one who _gave you_ to us. And on a fucking silver platter if you ask me." 

Xukun's heart sank to his toes. The man who had watched him grow up...did this? He knew he wasn't the easiest orphan to handle, but this just seemed demonic. He recalled the murky gaze in the priest's eyes when they had last spoken, and instantly remember his words: _"there is no saving you."_ Xukun suddenly wanted to throw up. The fact that the priest had always strayed from candor and only recently began slipping from his facade caused Xukun's knees to fail him. He could barely keep himself upright.

As the thought bombarded his mind, the boy felt one man–he didn't know nor care which–slink his arms around his waist. Physically, it felt like a simple caress, but the feeling quickly changed to something vulgar. A face had buried itself into his raven locks and Xukun could feel the man smelling them. And once again, his stomach threatened to hurl his dinner. In spite of this, Xukun didn't retaliate at first–not until he felt a hand fall under the waistband of his pants. Once he had noticed the foreign object he thrashed, jerking himself out of the grip. When he was freed the boy stumbled forward, then spun back around to the three, eyes twitching and nebulous with hot tears. 

"Liars!" He spat, but his chest was _aching._  
"Damn, he's kind of annoying." A third perched at the lowest stair said with a huff. Xukun assumed he was there to block the exit. "Why can't he just be scared enough to let it happen like all the others. Kinda reminds me of one from a few years back. That fairy-kid." He finished on a dismissive note, but it caught Xukun's attention anyway. The first found his smirk again. "Aw yeah, the one with the long hair and girlish face. He was fun. Also a little bitch. The priest was almost dying to get him away–was a troublesome kid, like this one."  
Xukun frowned. Only one orphan was permitted to have long hair. Only one.  
"Zhou Rui…" he muttered more so to himself. It caught the others' attention, though.  
"You knew him?" The first showed a devil-like grin, "must've seen him–we really had our fun with that one. Decided on takin' him out of the orphanage completely, in fact. He was just _that_ good." 

Xukun wanted to get angry. To scream and punch the men so that they would just _shut up._ But he couldn't. It was all too much and he felt every fighting spirit in him deflate the moment he was reminded of an old friend. He realized his fight had been depleting for some time now. It didn't matter how much he retaliated. If Zhou Rui didn't make it—how could he? When the men went forth in their game he let them, eyes empty of everything. He blocked it all out—every senile touch, every debauched action. Everything. Somewhere along the act, he allowed himself to fall out of consciousness. 

***

The next morning he woke up back at the orphanage. His eyes peeled back slowly, but nothing else moved. _Everything_ ached. Every inch of his body—especially the lower half—felt like it was under boiling water. The boy released careful breaths as he kept his gaze blank and unblinking. Fragmented memories from the night before flashed in his mind like splashes of gasoline being thrown onto a flame and he felt himself deflate again. Everything was for nothing. Zhou Rui was gone for good. He had lost his childhood. And the priest...the priest—that _damn_ priest! Xukun suddenly felt the fire inside him spark into a splenetic outburst. He jumped out of bed—ignoring the rack of shooting pain that struck his body as he did. He stalked to the office and burst in, slamming the door behind himself. His eyes were ignited. His fists clenched. His mind raced. The priest, once he saw Xukun, looked dreadfully nervous. It was because he felt a sense of culpability, Xukun discovered—because he had known every detail of the horrors that occurred after every thudding footsteps. After every disappearance of a child.

" _You,_ " the boy started. His voice was lowered but firm. The hostility leaked like boiling water from a writhing kettle. His temper snapped.  
"Now, Xukun–" the man started desperately. But he was not given the chance to finish that thought.  
"You traitor! You lying, deceptive traitor!" The boy yelled as he lunged for the man. He managed to grab a fistful of the elder's coat and dragged him forward so much that they were eye to eye. He could see the desperation in the man's eyes—the guilt and fear. But he also saw a disregard behind all that. A dismissing of the growing number of lost souls leaving that building. 

"You _knew!_ " The boy went on furiously, "and you've been doing this all along—for _years!_ "  
Xukun lost count, he realized, of how many of them disappeared when they grew up. Of how many steps he heard. How many he had erased from his mind. How many times he had silenced himself from inquiry. It all seemed unreal. "I always wondered how this broke shitshow of an orphanage got the cash to keep up. Now I know," he let a dry chuckle fall from his tongue, "I know all too well. You've been waiting for some of us to grow up—so you could _sell_ us for money! Bet your patience was starting to falter, huh? After all that time you must have been thinking _'damn I wish they'd get fucked already'_ —need that next paycheck, am I right? You fool yourself into justifying it  
because it helps keep this place running for the other children. But what about _us!_ " He grit his teeth together, eyes teary. "You _used_ us and you gave us false hope—you led us to nothing!" He rose his voice to an angry roar. Then, there was silence. Xukun's hands shook. Every religious symbol—every painting and figure of mold seemed to be staring holes through him. He understood. He understood the loss of innocence. That he'd never be the same again. That there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening again. 

"I did what I had to do." The priest finally replied bitterly, but Xukun wasn't having any of it.  
"You're pathetic and cruel and you fight for a useless cause! We had futures! _Futures!_ "  
"Who are you fooling?" The man shot, "none of you were wanted. Why are you still fooling yourself, Xukun? How long has it been—almost a decade now? And yet nobody has claimed you. Their eyes slip passed you every time. Without fail. You're not wanted. The only people who will _ever_ want you are the ones you came across last night." 

Xukun felt his lip twitch furiously, but he didn't reply. He wanted to retaliate—to deny the statement. But how could he? It was true after all. Slowly, his grip loosened and tears dripped over and down his chin. The man only said one more thing before turning his back on the boy. 

"They decided they like you. They'll come get you soon. You can say goodbye to the orphanage forever. You've finally found someone who wants you, after all." 

***

Xukun went on for the next half a year being tossed around from gang to gang, always used for his body. Everytime he thought he'd been mutilated—he'd be cleaned, and then used again. He retaliated at first, but he got used to it after awhile, and accepted his fate as just another tragedy. He hoped after a certain number of days that death wouldn't be so modest with him. That death wouldn't be kind to him.

One day, after another session, the numbing he felt caused him to ask a question he had avoided thus far. The room was darkened as only a single, weakly lit bed-side lamp sat next to them. Aside from the musty aroma already molding within the walls of the building, the room smelled strongly of sweat and the remnants of a cigar the man had been smoking several minutes prior. Xukun could hear the man take another sip from the bottle of scotch resting over his lap. He did so in uneven intervals—as if hesitant over what to do next, contemplating, perhaps. Xukun didn't really care, if he was honest with himself. After some time the bottle was laid on the floor and the man slipped closer to the younger once again, seeming to have decided what he wanted. A tired arm around the smaller's body as they lay over the mattress. However, no other actions were attempted. They simply stayed. Xukun was staring at the ceiling, mind numbed. At that moment, all he could smell was scotch leaving in gentle breaths next to him. 

He spoke for the first time in months.

"Why do you do this?" He muttered quietly. It came out weak and breathless, like he had just run a marathon. There was a pause of consideration before the man answered. He shifted his fingers around the boy's torso for a moment before he spoke.  
"Because you're pretty," he said simply into the crook of Xukun's neck. And Xukun could feel the evil smile plastered over his lips as he set it. 

His lungs went aflame.

That night, when he was finally left alone he locked himself in the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, bare naked. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot from hours of crying and his teeth were clenched.  
"Pretty?" He echoed with a mirthless laugh. "Where am I? Here?" He whispered to himself as he dragged his hands across his tosro. "Or is it here? That _dog_ thinks this is pretty—so I need to get rid of that too." He blinked back tears as he spoke. He didn't know why he cried. He wasn't sad. He was furious. _So why_ , he wondered, _are there tears?_  
"Where? Where?! WHERE?!" He screamed as he slammed his fist against the mirror and bent toward it. The glass cracked, but didn't shatter. He stepped back, considering the scene. It was strange, he decided, bearing in mind the damage he had done on the mirror. It was strange that it didn't break in spite of it all. Still, his reflection was mutilated, and he found a sick pleasure in the sight. 

He picked off a shard. Just one. And then he went on with the weapon, muttered to himself throughout. He felt the wet, sticky tears water down his face as he went on dragging the edge of the weapon across his torso, enough so that dribbles of blood fell, but not enough for a major injury. The pain began to sting everywhere, but he felt himself smile as he looked back at the cracked mirror. His body was fucked up, now. The cuts looked hideous. Maybe now, they wouldn't find him so pretty. Maybe now, he could evade the torture. 

Maybe now, the _real_ pain would end.

***

As Xukun had predicted, he was kicked to the streets for ruining his body. He was homeless. He had no money, no education, and nowhere to go.

The boy howled a cry of happiness nevertheless. Because he was finally—after _years,_ free.

The happiness lasted a few days. And then it died like all pleasantries did. He was starving, cold, and alone. One night in particular he dragged himself to the back of a restaurant and simply sat slumped against the wall. He allowed the aroma of fresh, steamed bread and hot tomato soup travel to his senses and he leaned his head back, eyes closed. Far away, he could hear the faint notes of a violinist performing on the street. Xukun decided that if he passed like this—with the smell of freshly cooked food and the sound of music rather than sweat and grunts—he could fool himself into inner peace. It was nice, he decided. Nice to end things off like this. 

He didn't know how much time passed, but after an ambiguous amount of time, he heard footsteps approaching. Trauma killed his internal facade and his eyes snapped towards it instinctively—body going rigid and flinching backwards. But he froze. Before him stood a man he had never met. The stranger bent down to meet his eyes, and placed a box that smelled of fresh, warm food in front of the other.  
"You're lost," he whispered. The man voiced his words so calmly—so thoughtfully that Xukun allowed himself to nod slowly. The man showed a warm smile.

"I can help you." 

That night, the 15-year-old learned of a family that would accept him not for body, but rather, mind and soul. A family called Mask. After years of rejection, after being told he wasn't wanted by someone he trusted, the boy found solace. Or so he thought.

The animosity he would come to feel towards this family with every ounce of his being years later would break him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been a hot minute. Honestly this chapter still isn't ready to release but it's been three weeks since my last update so I guess I'm here to say I'm not dead yet. Lol. so I might as well. I just want to talk about a few things:
> 
> 1) Religion/The Church. Okay, so, obviously I don't put religion in a nice light (I mean, this entire fic is about a cult). In this chapter in particular I suggest Christianity as the religion running the orphanage. That being said, I having nothing against Christinanity myself (in fact, I grew up in a Christian household and went to Christian preschool, elementary and highschool). So this isn't an attack on that lifestyle. However, there is no denying the evil within every part of life. I'm Canadian and if anyone knows anything about the residential schools in Canada from a few decades ago—they'd know that in those schools (run by christians) children would actually get molested by the priests themselves. That is one of the things that inspired this chapter actually (and a song, lol). Xukun wasn't in a residential school and didnt get molested by anyone within it but I still based the roots of what happens on true stories that I watched through numerous documentaries. 
> 
> 2) The molestation. I really wanted to try and depict at least part of it only because I think it would further reinforce the trauma he went through and help understand some of his emotional reactions (like his past reactions to sudden touches: ie. Ziyi touching his ear in ch. 4). I couldn't bring myself to do it because that shit is fucked up and I felt gross even writing what I did BUT it's important for his character development and yes, again, based on true stories. I tried to keep it as not-incredibly-fucked-up-ish as possible while still enforcing what happened. 
> 
> 3) I really held back with the self harm scene because I don't want to trigger anyone. It was originally more detailed but I boiled it down when editing because I originally thought it served more importance than I do now. It's really only important because Ziyi mentioned them (scars) a few chapters back and I thought they needed an origin.
> 
> 4) Sorry it's taking me so long to update. I have no excuse but school and work. At this rate this fic won't be done until 2030 lmaoo


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xukun and Ziyi's backstory part 2/4 (Ziyi's arc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: This chapter contains the mention of drug use and addiction, as well as attempted murder.

He received a sharp slap across the face, and it stung like a rush of fire. The man bit into his bottom lip when he felt the burn rivulet down his jaw. It melted down and around the crevice of his neck. It bubbled between the thin layers of devilish frost— the ones that had begun to plague every naked strip it could latch onto. His nose was already discorging rufous tinted liquid and his jaw softened to a rich velvet. He hoped that his entire body would freeze over—so that his insides could simmer to a breath of continuous quandary. He wondered why it was taking so long to do so.

Ziyi's mind tussled for something said man couldn't quite understand himself. He saw only flashes of black and white, both void of any answer—just a pertaining question, one that bellowed into his mind like drafts of sharp venom: _who am I?_

It seemed that all he had left was the incessant clouds of black and white swimming around his head and _dear god_ , he wasn't sure if it was the heroine or the state of mind he was in but it was torturing. All he could bring himself to acknowledge was the burning urge for it to _stop._ End entirely. His body shook furiously and his breaths left him like the austere ticking of a watch, quick and neverending—and yet he had not a single drop of control over that pattern. He wondered why his fingers cramped into a tight lock behind his back. Why his breathing felt so uncoordinated. Why his lungs boomed coughs of derisive laughter. Why they failed to withhold the ticking breaths. All he saw was black and white and black and white and black and white again. Cold and burn. Emptiness and despair. It all came and went in incessant circles. Until they intertwined with one another. He wished it would end. He wished he could swallow just one breath. Just one. _Dear God, please, just one breath._

He was kneeling, his arms being held behind his back by another member of the gang Ziyi was a part of. They continued to beat him. He felt the cold and the burn. The black and the white. It seemed that torture had no trace of sympathy. Ziyi felt he could taste his demise as it sat to fester on the tip of his tongue.

The man tried to remember how he had gotten to that point, but his mind ached when he did. All he remembered was the unabating rejection, and then the drugs and the highs and the screams that echoed between the cackles. He remembered the gun and the heartless pull of the trigger. The sound of a bullet ripping through the air at a speed that was inhuman in nature. That was unnatural. Unforgiving. 

The man thought he would be sick. 

They were at the end of a dark alleyway. The gravel beneath Ziyi's knees was rocky and damp. He watched the watered crimson weave it's way around the gravel as it trickled towards a drain. He didn't say a word. He was suddenly grabbed by the collar.  
"You nearly had us killed!" The man before him seethed. Ziyi didn't answer, he averted his eyes, deciding to instead focus on the drain once again. It had all erupted because of the mission they had had only several moments prior...

_"God, women are so fucking prude nowadays. Really takes a toll on my dick y'know?" The man spoke in a pervasive whine as he threw his cards on the rounded, wooden table.  
"Shut your ass up and play." A woman snapped from the other side of the table, although she smirked when she said it, finding some sick amusement in the comment. Ziyi shouldered off their drabbles, instead opting to focus on his own hand of cards.  
"Wouldn't need to deal wi' that shit if you just went to...y'know, the big boss." Another replied absently as he dropped a set of cards down as well. The action recieved a groan from the woman as she slammed her hand on the table. He laughed.  
"Naw‐ that kind of thing is kinda fucked up, don't you think?" The first said, although a hint of amusement rolled off his tongue as well. Ziyi dropped his own hand of cards down and the others all let out groans and muttered curses at his win. Just then, the leader of the gang barged into the room. Ziyi could almost see the smoke coming from his ears. _

_"The old bastard had the audacity to throw me out for smoking some shit inside his shop." The member snorted mirthlessly. His eyes were bloodshot. Within his thinned pupil, Ziyi could see lightning. It blazed ferociously, and if one had the audacity to challenge it, it warped to a storm. The fear that erupted when met with those eyes was unmistakable. Ziyi smirked._  
_"I guess we'll have to teach him a lesson." The raven-haired man replied as soon as he stood, stretching his long limbs. The others drawled derisive cackles._  
_"Guy should have kept his damn mouth shut. He'll get what's coming to him." Another, this time a woman, added. They released small mutters of agreement before they left. It was customary—that they stir panic, that is. It was entertaining for some of them, Ziyi decided, but it was needed for him._

_When darkness cloaked the sky, the members left for the small shop at the end of a quiet street. The street lamp dimmed, then sparked wickedly, as though it were wordlessly warning the man. Ziyi failed to heed its warnings. He ignored the strange vibrations regurgitating in the breeze—in his head. Instead, the man went forth, feeling his blood rush with an energy that drugged his nerves so that his blood pumped at an unnerving speed. He went on._

***

_When Ziyi was three years old, his father passed away. The man didn't remember much. The funeral came and went in flashes. He recalled the sight of scordging colours bottled into the leaves hanging off thin, emaciated branches. They stripped themselves off the nuding sycamore trees, and lain to rot into a crinkle of withered dust. He could smell the remnants of unfiltered smoke fleeing from the black buds of unscented wax. He could hear sobs burst into his eardrums at uneven intervals—the lamenting, above all else, sifted through the small crowd like the smoke of the candle. It was noticed by many, but simply passed them and eventually dissolved. It disappeared before it could be caught, and just like it, Ziyi couldn't seem to grasp that mourning. He couldn't understand what the raven casket symbolized. Why the man called father who only ever came home when Ziyi was asleep would never return again. It all came and went. It scorched his heart, then like the smoke, it dissolved._

_After the death of her husband, Ziyi's mother put all her effort into working. The woman did so in order to support him despite her sudden loss. As a child, Ziyi couldn't understand her change. All the boy could understand was that the woman was always busy. That she never paid him any attention. That she didn't come to his third grade talent show because she was working. That she failed to congratulate him during his elementary graduation because she was busy. That she didn't pay him any attention for getting straight A's throughout middle school because she was doing such precarious labor. Ziyi hated it—the fact that he would be nothing but a shadow in her life. That like wafts of smoke and unscented candles, he would come long enough so that she would be reminded of the ungainly scent and the motivation she needed to move forward. Then, he would disappear. He would dissolve from her mind in a wisp of air. Ziyi wondered at times if he was nothing more than a passing nuisance._

_It galled him—that he wasn't worth anything. Ziyi found a strange feeling boil inside himself. The feeling pestered him—begged for attention, and in a feat of desperation, the boy settled for any sort of recognition. Any at all would be better than none._

_And so, when the boy finally reached his high school years, he tried a different tactic. He tried being bad. It started as a simple experiment: Ziyi had merely skipped school one day. Naturally, his mother received a phone call from the school administrator, and that night during dinner, she looked at him and spoke to him for the first time in what seemed like years. It only then occurred to the boy that it may have actually been years since the two had had a conversation that lasted longer than a simple exchange._

_"You're school called me, Ziyi." She said. Her voice fell flat, but the boy could faintly hear the echoes of disappointment lingering among that apathy. His heart jumped. He could feel an unfamiliar rush of adrenaline pump and burst through his veins like firecrackers. His mouth hung open, ready to speak and yet he faltered, and instead waited for her to move on. He was too afraid that if he spoke, the woman would lose her desire to address the topic at all. That somehow, the sound of his voice would break the sudden chain of thought she began voicing. The boy swallowed.  
'Yes,' the boy thought happily, 'she noticed me.'  
"Don't do it again." Was all the woman finished with before silencing herself once more. But alas, it was more than enough for the boy. _

_It all made sense then. Ziyi had become even more of an inconvenience to be noticed. And so, the boy continued being bad._

_When the boy did act imprudently, his mother would vaguely bring up his nuisances before getting back to work. Everytime she did, however, the boy felt himself jolt with a sudden wave of jubilance. He no longer felt like a passing shadow. He felt, for the first time in years, that he was human. That he wasn't the simple dregs of a bitter tea or the remains of a fetid candle. He was, rather, a bright fire. The destruction he caused only watered the flame with buckets of gasoline. The reactions he received as a result of his actions allowed him to grow into his facade. He grew until the bad guy was Wang Ziyi. Until he wore the title with ease. Until it was all he knew._

_Until he deluded himself into believing it was all he wanted._

_Then, one day, the berating began to dwindle. And on another, it ceased completely._

_Ziyi didn't understand why his mother stopped scolding him when he did bad things. The school must have called her…so why…?_

_He decided to be worse. He let the flame grasp him by the throat and push its heedless fingers down and through his mouth. He let it force him open— slither down his tongue and use its flaming knuckles to unlatch his jaw. It stretched the boy open until he choked on the ashes. He allowed the anger and resentment to strangle him—he allowed to fire to engulf him, for he was afraid that if he so much as touched a drop of water, of peace, he would drown. That everything he had built until that moment would extinguish completely._

_In a fit of pathetic desperation, the boy did everything he could. He went to dangerous raves, he beat the other students until they bled a crimson fire, snapped at everything—everything. The anger seemed to drive every thought and action. It would lap onto any opening for violence and spread like wildfire before the boy could stop himself. In the end, Ziyi couldn't help but get into drugs. It, as everything else, began as just another silly tactic to get his mother's attention. Another lunge at attention that happened when Ziyi was just 16 years old, and had half-wittedly decided to try smoking weed right in front of his mother. She sighed, then simply said,_

_"Do it outside."_

_Her eyes went blank, and she turned away once more._

_And that was it. Ziyi was livid. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. In his senior year of high school, the boy joined a gang that had been accumulating members. He had created a small name for himself through his bad behaviour and had eventually been allowed to join. The boy felt ecstatic. He got home that night late, slamming the door behind himself. His mother was sprawled on the couch, only half awake watching something Ziyi didn't care about on the TV. He walked in, the only light in the room being the passing colour from the screen. He wondered why some images on an old, batty monitor could grasp more attention from the woman than a flame. He stepped in front of his mother._

_"I joined a gang," the boy said simply. His mother didn't answer nor spare the boy a single glance. Ziyi clenched his fists, but went on.  
"They're pretty bad, too. Like fucking beasts for real. A lot of them end up in prison for crazy shit. I could end up like that too—not that I give a damn anyway." He glanced down at the woman, who remained in the same position. Her eyes were void of anything. In fact, she seemed to try and look past him, as if—if anything, to get another glance at whatever moved on the screen behind him.  
"Nothing you say will stop me. I've chosen this path." He went on desperately, feeling the discouragement coil around his chest like a heavy bind._

_Still, nothing. The woman dared to tilt her head further to the right—a final attempt at seeing the flashes of colour from the screen._

_Finally, the boy snapped. He grabbed the remote and threw it at the TV screen, causing it to shatter in front of them. The room went completely dark. He turned back on his heels and faced his mother. The boy fumed._

_"I hate you! You know that? I fucking hate living with you! You're a piece of shit! All you do is live in your own world! You were never—never there for me. Never there to‐ to catch me when I fell. Never there to- I don't know- teach me how to ride a bike, come to any recital, create any‐ any goddamn memory together. No matter how hard I try you just fucking turn the other cheek! Like I'm nothing! Like I- I- do you even—" the boy felt himself shake. He ran his fingers through his hair, breath escaping him at rates that were all too rapid for anyone's liking. He felt every nerve tear.  
"Do you even know I exist?" He asked, and hated how much his voice broke when he did. _

_There was a pause. The woman didn't move._

_"Well, do you?" He tried, this time refusing to leave without recognition. Or a single reply, at the very least. "Huh? ANSWER ME DAMN IT! ANSWER ME BEFORE I REALLY LOSE IT!! BEFORE I GO BATSHIT CRAZY" The tears fell without rest, watering down his face at a rate that was unnaturally fast. The boy stumbled over in his predicament, catching himself on nothing but his own clumsy footwork. He wondered if it would always be that way—if he'd be stuck looking after himself forever._

_The woman looked at him then. Nonetheless, no change had occurred. Her eyes, the boy noticed, were empty of any emotion. It twisted Ziyi's heart to pieces. Then, she whispered to him.  
"Everything I ever did was for you, Ziyi."  
The boy stared at her in complete defeat as his entire world shattered before him. His hands loosened and fell to his sides. He lowered his head in his trounced state. His plight reached its end. _

_"After all this time...that's really all you can say to me?" He muttered almost pathetically._

_There was no reply, but that was reply enough for the boy. The same night, Ziyi went out and smoked a joint. When his head felt like it was in a frenzy, he took a bat and shattered everything he could find. He wanted to feel hazy. He wanted to forget the numbing gaze his mother held perpetually. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to be heard. Fuck it—he wouldn't be at all afraid or angry if he had been stopped by the authorities. If only he could be recognized for living. Ziyi screamed in the streets. Bellowed at the moon. And when he did the wind stopped howling, the stars dimmed themselves just a little bit, and the fog retreated itself—as if quieted down by his ultimate command. As if succumbing to submission. As though he, the invisible child, were sovereignty. Ziyi cackled at himself and his stupid antics. He broke everything in sight._

_Then he cried. He cried until sleep caressed him._

*** 

_After he graduated high school, Ziyi moved on to the gang full time. He quickly learned that he liked to see the fear in others' gazes when they laid eyes on him. When they saw the familiar black cloaks with deep violet symbols sewn onto the backs. The gang that was known all too well for being ruthless. He wore it with pride—both the cloak and his title. Ziyi was content with this life, at least, he thought he was. A small part of himself sometimes prodded at him, asked not for more, but for something different. He left that part buried. It only came once in awhile during sleep, anyway. A version of himself that had chosen a better way of life. A Wang Ziyi who wasn't thrown onto a road of hatred and menace. He ignored it._

_Then, one fateful night arose._

_"I guess we'll have to teach him a lesson." He had said._

_And so, he and the gang had left for the shop. The old man was still inside, closing up for the night. The door was locked and Ziyi smashed it with a metal pipe before forcing his way in. The other members followed as though it were a normal occurrence. The man behind the counter quickly spun at the sound. He stared straight into Ziyi's eyes, and suddenly, the fear was present. Ziyi was electrified by it. He was thankful for the fact that another member had shut the lights, for the sable curtain would provide Ziyi with the concealment he needed. The man knew that the elder couldn't possibly recognize him. It was dark, and the raven haired man had a black cloth brought up to his nose, so that only the colour of his thin, nebulous irises would appear between the darkness he wore. Ziyi studied the elder, however. The face was shrunken and excess skin pulled and drooped over his rectangular build. The eyes were a crisp cerulean, and the hair grey like the ashy snow one would see around coal factories. Ziyi noticed a block of velvet over his temple and decided that the man had already encountered some sort of scuffle before they had entered. Whether it was done by the other gang member earlier that day or not was not important. Ziyi focused on the man's eyes again. The eyes that were glued onto him and only him. That undivided attention, he realized, gave him a sudden high._

_"Wh-who are you people? I'll-I-ll call the police!" The man stuttered. One of the other gang members slammed his fists against the counter.  
"Don't you remember me, old man?" He asked with a sadistic grin. The old man's eyes widened in fear. He knew. He knew all too well.  
"If I remember correctly, you 'ordered' me to get out of your shop for smoking a little, huh?"  
The man shook his head quickly, the utter desperation for survival clear in the way his voice pitched. "It was a mistake- I-I'm sorry!" He pleaded. _

_Suddenly, Ziyi heard a crash and turned to see a female member smashing his stocks. The man garbed in black found a small smirk plastered over his face. The crashes, the fear, the overstimulation of his senses; something he had lacked for so long but experienced consecutively in his current state. He found sick pleasure in the act._

_Then, he heard the sound of a gun loading._

_That, he realized, was a new sound._

_His eyes widened and he spun his head around to see the first member with a gun against the old man's forehead. The cold, jet-black object pressed itself against the bare flesh of a human. Ziyi watched the man's skin turn white.  
"Yo you got a gun? Fuck yeah!" A member laughed from the back. And suddenly it all felt like a blurry mess. Ziyi stumbled forward instinctively and he felt his hands shake.  
"What are you doing?" Ziyi muttered half-absently and he moved on. His eyes were focused on the weapon. Yes, he had done bad things. He had hurt many people. But the gang had never actually killed anyone before. Not as far as he could tell, at least. Ziyi stepped forward again. He didn't like it— that this time he was the one who felt such fear for someone else. He saw his father when he thought of death. He saw the pillar of his loneliness. _

_"What are you...bro-" Ziyi started as he inched forward. He could see the sweat water down the old man's forehead. He could practically hear the chatter of his teeth. Ziyi felt he would be sick. He thought he liked seeing fear, but he found that it was too much. It wasn't electrifying at all. It was ghastly._

_"Maybe you should have thought twice before being disrespectful to me, old man. Jeez, I really hate people like you. So damn rude." The man with the gun uttered dismissively. His eyes were void of any empathy, and Ziyi suddenly wondered who exactly he had mixed himself up with.  
"Please…" the elderly man started, "I have children—children and grandchildren and—and a wife I need to take care of. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. I'll never act that way again." He pleaded._

_Ziyi felt his heart stop and he halted his tracks. Part of him wanted to kill the man, too. After all, if he couldn't have a family, nobody could. It was the rage that had been bubbling like acid within him for so long. It was the selfishness and the desire for something he couldn't seem to attain. Another part of him—a part he had been trying to bury, felt immense pity and longing for what the man had. He hated to take away what had hurt him for so long. Ziyi held his head in his hands and battled with both as the scene unfolded. He shut his eyes tight, and prayed for it to stop._

_"You know what I hate even more than disrespectful people?" The gang member seethed as he began pressing his index finger into the trigger. "People who pretend to change just because I have power over them."_

_"Jesus Christ STOP!" Ziyi found himself shouting at the top of his lungs as he lunged forward and pushed the other. The shot went out, but missed any human. Instead it simply hit the wall across from them. When silence erupted, the man turned back to Ziyi.  
"Ziyi what the fuck?!" He shouted. Ziyi felt his hands go cold. He didn't understand what side he was on. He didn't know anymore. When they turned back the old man had contacted someone. With hissed curses they fled, cloaks lapping behind them as they drove off. Ziyi knew it would be over for him. That there was no mercy._

_That's when they stopped at the empty train track, and the beating began._

***

Ziyi let himself get beaten up by the other members. He found in that moment that he didn't care. He didn't know who he was, who he was trying to be, who he _wanted to be._ All he could remember was acting as something—anything else to get some attention from his mother. When he realized it was futile, it all fell into a haze. All Ziyi could remember was developing an unhealthy obsession to drugs and the numbing sensation that unfolded with it. The high, he realized, blinded him from stress and anxiety. He got caught up in the nebulous clouds of plastic happiness. In his haze his mind blanked from reasoning. He hurt people. Many people. The fear, he realized, was the only emotion he would be able to evoke from someone. And like the drugs he became so accustomed to taking, he got addicted. 

_So why_...he wondered, _am I faltering now?_

It didn't add up. It didn't make sense. Everything went as it should. The fear was there. The destruction was there. The control was there. So the man couldn't help but wonder...why he had felt the need to save the old man's life. Was it because they had never killed before? Was that the line he was not willing to cross? Was it because of the man's comment? Was it because he was just too weak to play a supporting hand in murder? Ziyi felt his head spin in circles as he wondered. 

His thoughts were awoken by a burning feeling against the nape of his neck. The man's eyes widened, and he let out an agonizing gasp that might have spurred into a jostled cry if not for the shock factor. The shock was what muted the man. One of them, he came to realize, had begun pressing a burning metal rod against his skin. Ziyi felt the fire press into his flesh with vile patience. It was slow, excruciating. And despite the harrowing nature of the scene, he wished, suddenly, that it would continue. But that rather than resting on his neck, it would move to his eyes and ears instead. His eyes, so that he would never have to worry about seeing any sort of emotion. His eyes that had watched his mother for so long. That had glinted with hope. He wanted them to melt with the fire. His ears, that begged to hear any breath of acknowledgment. He wished them gone, too. 

All of a sudden, he felt someone pull at the hair at the back of his head and push him forward into the train tracks. He was on his knees, bending forward into a danger zone. He felt himself numb.  
"Train is coming soon. How'd you feel about getting smashed to pieces. You're the one who wanted the old bastard to live, right?" Ziyi could hear the other say. "A life for a life. You should pay your debt."

Ziyi chuckled under his breath. It was incredibly comical, he decided as he momentarily pondered over how he had gotten into the position he was in to begin with. All he could remember was living for the sake of his mother. And then, pain and confusion bubbling to a strange vapor. One that he could never grasp—never touch. He wondered how he ended up at the mere age of 19 as a violent drug addict conflicted in a merciless gang of demons. It didn't seem to add up. But then again, it did. 

He asked himself, then, why the train wouldn't come any faster. 

From afar, he could hear the rumbling of the vehicle. It seemed to stay unvarying at first, so orderly that Ziyi thought the train was running in place. As it approached, however, the sound echoed louder, and approached much more rapidly. Slowly, it was getting closer. He almost wanted it to knock all his memories from him, so that flesh and blood would be torn from his mind, which would disappear into the air just as his presence always had. Like a final breath of smoke, it seemed a fitting end for the man. However, just as the man closed his eyes, he heard a blaring horn and was pulled back to safety. The train passed them. Ziyi fell to his side. 

"Fuck- I can't." One said, biting his lip. "Fuck- shit- alright, Ziyi. You're off the hook because of our history together. You're out of the gang, though. Don't you dare come into my view ever again. Understand?" 

Ziyi closed his eyes. He was left alone on the side of the tracks. His mind wandered. The tracks fell to silence. 

***

Ziyi didn't know why, but after that night he had decided to change. It came in a rather quick awakening. He wanted to leave his old group, and join a new one that had different values. He yearned to open up another part of himself. Perhaps one that differed from what he had experienced previously. He searched online for awhile, until he came across a small webpage dedicated to a group called Mask. 

He hadn't grown up religious. But it seemed to welcome newcomers with open arms. 

A week later, the man joined as an official member. It seemed simple, and he had nobody to leave behind, anyway. 

He remembered one of his first encounters all too well.

"Welcome dear friend! I would love to offer you a tour myself, however, I find myself in a bit of a clasp at the moment. I'll have a veteran member, Cai Xukun escort you around." The leader had said. 

It was the first time Ziyi had laid eyes on Xukun. It was the beginning of their story together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter takes places before the main timeline *** (incase the italics confuse anyone) 
> 
> I swear I'm not dying. I actually had this planned to post on the 22nd or 23rd but I was working and then my birthday was on christmas eve so I postponed and then I got really sick on Christmas and it lasted days so I couldn't finish up writing till now ughhhh. Surprise though! I got one more chapter in before 2020 lol. In the next chapter I'll be exploring the cult a little more...
> 
> I know the last two chapters took like a month each to post and although I'm gonna try and update more often than once a month from now on, I don't think I can do the weekly updates I was doing for the first several chapters...maybe I'll aim for twice a month? We'll see if I can lol
> 
> On another note, did anyone hear the news about Xukun PD-ing a show in 2020? Is that a thing or am I just confused? Hhh


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xukun and Ziyi's backstory part 3/4 (the meeting)

The cult was situated in a run down hotel at the end of a road that led to nowhere. Behind it, further into the bush of trees, something foul simmered slowly. It fell between the illusion of falsified bliss and a stringent reliance on faith. It was the burning smell of scepticism, or rather, what would become of it. It broke what was left of a chimeric dream.

Ziyi entered with his teeth against his lip. He had nothing but a worn duffle bag filled with very few belongings. There were strict rules one was told to adhere to when joining. Primarily, no electronic devices were permitted and very little personal belongings or signs of the outside world could enter the enclosed area. He had left nearly everything behind, not that he had much to start with, anyway.

Ziyi was checked multiple times. First, he was checked by the cult member who had come to pick him up. The man had not introduced himself nor offered any sign of welcome. Momentarily, it dawned on Ziyi that he had no idea where he was going nor any idea of who would be waiting at his destination. Alas, he gathered that he had nothing to lose anyway, and found himself going in spite of it. Once he arrived, the man was checked again- by a different member this time, before entering the building. It was much more furnished on the inside, Ziyi noted absently as he pulled at his nails. It opened to a homely headroom surrounded by walls of juniper. There was a small lounge of cotton and linen sofas laying atop a vintage-like carpet that appeared rather gaudy in comparison to every other item. A dark-hickory coloured chesterfield nestled itself between it all- although the slits on the arms made it seem almost mangled, and a desk stood front and center. It was oblique, as one leg was shorter than the others, and strange symbols were engraved all over in chaotic dysfunction. The atmosphere was both homely in its colours and furniture but inhospitable in its condition. The two feelings staggered in his mind, bumped into one another, tangled and muddled into the second. They would knot, then pull away abruptly. Ziyi blinked slowly and glanced behind himself, where both men remained apathetic. Neither member spoke a word to the man as he advanced into the hotel. He was simply led towards what he assumed was the front office- probably, he decided, what the reception used to be. He took a deep breath of air and forced himself forward. 

Then, he caught sight of the leader. The man smiled at the newcomer. Immediately, all hesitation left him. He knew it was nothing but inviting, and Ziyi went forward excitedly. 

Next to the man stood a boy who seemed rather young, perhaps even younger than he was, Ziyi concluded. He had long, blonde locks that fell over birch coloured eyes. His hair, Ziyi noted, was cut unevenly. His skin was naturally pigmented and certain areas looked dappled with scars. He was also rather slender beneath his ample wool sweater. Ziyi quickly decided that this boy could not have been older than seventeen or eighteen. The blonde had been conversing with the leader just before Ziyi's arrival, and they both halted the conversation when the raven haired male had stepped into light. 

"Welcome, Ziyi!" The leader evoked as he went in for a tight hug. The newcomer returned it effortlessly. He was ready to start his life over, to turn a new leaf. Mask would be the one to give him that opportunity. He knew they would, as they had promised him. 

"I'm glad you could make it to the family, your loyalties will be ever appreciated."  
"Thank you for accepting me." Ziyi said with a hand against the nape of his neck, and it came rather gingerly. The man gave another warm smile.  
"Of course," he said, "I see you've already met some of the members," he continued as he gestured a finger towards the two who had escorted Ziyi inside. Ziyi turned back to the men who were stoic at first interaction. It was replaced with sudden smiles, and Ziyi returned it.  
"Xiao Gui and Zhu Xingjie, they’re a team, and they normally pick up the newcomers," the leader explained. Ziyi nodded slowly.  
"And this is Cai Xukun."  
Ziyi turned to look back at the blonde, who gave the newcomer a small grin and modest wave.

"I'm afraid I have some business to attend to, my apologies Ziyi. I’ll have Xukun show you around instead, he will give you a full tour of the area. He's a veteran member, so you'll undoubtedly be in good hands." The man patted Ziyi’s shoulder reassuringly before nodding his head towards Xiao Gui and Xingjie. The two followed the leader elsewhere in a walk that was rather brisk. Ziyi looked back at them until they disappeared. 

"Ready to go?"  
The raven-haired male quickly turned back when Xukun had spoken. He gave the blonde a smile, then a small nod. Xukun returned it and led him into a different hallway. He was shown around the venue, which was fairly small. Xukun mentioned something about expanding, but only briefly touched on it before moving along to something else. The abandoned hotel was where most of them slept, and outside of it, a few huts were visible between the forest trees. There was a small garden for growing food, but Xukun explained that they often sent a few members out every month to get a mass amount of necessary goods. There was a larger hut with numerous rows of chairs just before the start of woods. It was, Zyi found out, where they held most preaches and masses.

"Not many of us can drive, so it's usually the same few people who go out—Han Mubo and Qin Fen were originally in charge of it, but they were recently upgraded because of their long stay with Mask. They've passed it onto Zhu Xingjie recently—you met him earlier." Xukun spoke almost absently as they ambled around the venue, often going on unevenly or stiltedly. Ziyi found himself lost on a few far-gone rambles, but simply nodded through it all.  
"I can drive." Ziyi eventually mentioned vaguely. Xukun raised an eyebrow. After a moment, he grinned.  
"Nice. You should let the leader know." 

After several minutes, the tour ended and they returned to the headroom.

"You came at the right time," Xukun started as he leaned himself against the desk, "we're having a gathering tonight."  
"A gathering…?" Ziyi asked. Xukun only smiled in response, almost devilishly.  
"You'll see." 

***

It was nothing like anything Ziyi had seen before. An enormous fire was lit on a golden pedestal before them, sparks spitting and flames lapping at the air. The entirety of Mask circled around it. It was midnight, and with only the fire as a source of light, he could see nothing clearly but the outstretched shadows leering over the world. Amorphous figures caroled concordant wails through the thickening smoke. Their identities were buried behind a white mask dribbled in soot, soil, and blood. The man held a single candle, thick wax melting to his hands like syrup. The others continued their chanting as the leader preached in loud cries. The words thundered between smoke and pitched screams. Ziyi felt sweat trickle over his jaw as he inhaled the cacophony. His heart blared. The fire, the air, the chants- it all made him feel somehow that they were one entity. That he belonged. It sent electric rushes of adrenaline throughout his body. He felt it travel down his spine, to the edge of his ankles. He inhaled again, then shook, mouth agape. It felt unprecedented, above all else. 

He looked to his left, where he could see someone with the emblematic veil. The other had flaxen strands sticking from the back of his head, and when he turned to Ziyi, the newcomer could almost see Xukun’s eyes through the punctured holes of the thing. Almost. But not quite. The leader stepped down when his cries came to a sudden halt, and with it, the crowd fell silent. When the leader got to Ziyi, he smiled, and, without warning, pulled the man into the middle of the circle. It was true that Ziyi couldn’t see through the holes of their masks, but he felt perfervid gazes consume him nevertheless. They were heavy- expectant. Hungry, almost. And it felt primitive.

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to the newest member of our family! Wang Ziyi!"  
The crowd roared and clapped for the man, and Ziyi couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. He was given his own mask, a symbol of loyalty. It was simple. A clean, white piece of dried clay that molded into his face.  
"His mark!" The leader bellowed as he offered a knife to Ziyi, to which the man sliced through the flesh on his wrist and sprinkled it both into the flames and onto his Mask. The white was slashed in a dark scarlet, and when he lifted it onto his face, the crowd roared even louder than they had before. The symbol of confinement. Ziyi moved back into the crowd then, finding his place next to Xukun, who had patted him on the shoulder. 

"To Wang Ziyi!” The leader shouted once more, “Who abandoned his gang life in order to start anew!" 

Ziyi felt his heart soar into the air. The rush was addicting, venomous almost. This was what he had wanted. His body clenched, but his insides beetled under the adrenaline. The nicked holes from his mask forced his vision onto a sole thing. The leader. Ziyi breathed raggedly, untouched by the burns over his skin or the cut that still ran blood down to his fingernails. He wanted it all. 

Suddenly, he felt the firm hand on his shoulder loosen, then drop. He glanced to his left, then, where Xukun seemed to have lost all spirit. The younger was not cheering, nor paying any attention to the ceremony. His eyes were fixed on Ziyi’s. And yet, through the slits of his own mask as well as the other’s, Ziyi simply couldn’t see what the boy’s gaze said. He couldn’t see a thing but a dark shadow underneath the veil. The first sign of anything came when Xukun began stepping away from him.

He frowned, but before he could question it, the bonfire went on, and he was quickly surrounded by the other members. 

He didn't see Xukun again that night. 

***

Weeks had passed, and Ziyi had begun integrating himself within the community. They held masses every other day and followed the regulations. There was always work to be done or exercises to attend. They bonded through group activities, got to know one another, appreciate the other- it was welcoming, familial, and gave the man a sense of togetherness. 

However, there remained one person who struck through that fragile sense. 

Cai Xukun. 

Since the bonfire, the blonde had completely avoided Ziyi, and only spoke to him when necessary in a monotone, dismissive way. Ziyi shrugged it off at first. Maybe he was tired, or stressed. Either way, he paid no relevant attention to the act. Not until it had been nearly a month, that is. He had tried bringing it up with Xukun, but was always dismissed. The other would quickly leave, blubbering some sort of lame excuse as he went. 

When he gave up on speaking with Xukun, Ziyi went to speak to the leader. 

"I'm unsure on what to do. I've tried getting along with everyone here but I feel as though he hates me. He avoids eye contact, and when he's near me he tenses and leaves as soon as he can. Have I been misguided? Have I done something wrong?" Ziyi asked when he was alone with his leader. He twiddled his thumbs, ran his fingers up his arm and began playing with the scabs that had been left by the happenings at the bonfire. 

Alas, he was given no answer. The man was simply told that Xukun had some sensitivity to certain people. That he would outgrow that tension. 

And so, Ziyi waited. 

But months passed and seasons changed and it never ended with Cai Xukun. Ziyi choked on the idea sometime. He had gotten so close to the others- Jeffrey, Dinghao, Yanjun- even Xiao Gui and Xingjie had grown to treat him like family. They would smile when they greeted him, wrap their arms around his shoulders and invite him to some sort of affair. So why, he wondered, is Xukun different?

Curiosity strangled him and melted to a thick anger. When questions are pestered but never answered, people grow tiresome. Tics twitch and prod. Questions strain. 

He stared at the blonde, who was conversing with Xinchun and Dinghao on the other side of the field behind the main building. Xukun was smiling and laughing, he threw his head back and spoke some more. Ziyi's brows furrowed. His fists clenched. It was unfair. 

***

"He doesn't like me," Ziyi spoke like a child whining to his mother. He was slumped against a chair that in turn stood oblique to the wall. He leaned down, elbows pressed against his thighs. The fingers that had dragged across his scalp remained clutched at his black locks. "Ever since...ever since the bonfire he's been turning a cold shoulder everytime I pass by. He never speaks to me. What did I do wrong? The others like me." Ziyi felt the end of his lip pop through, his eyes were stinging and he curled into himself. He hated how childish it looked. He had grown up so fast. Perhaps he never really had at all. 

There was a long pause before the leader finally replied. He placed a hand over Ziyi's shoulder and beckoned for the man to look up. Ziyi did.  
"He doesn't like speaking of it, but I suppose you should know the basics considering it has...some affiliation with you."  
"With me?" Ziyi's eyebrows rose. He had never met Xukun before, so, how? The leader nodded slowly.  
"Not you particularly, but your character, I suppose. Your title. Your background."  
Ziyi frowned again, confused and frustrated.  
"The gang, Ziyi, he was…" 

The conversation went on. Ziyi's eyebrows rose. His heart fell. He suddenly remembered that it had been all around him. For years of his life he had known, he had been so close and yet never enough to touch it. 

_"God, women are so fucking prude nowadays. Really takes a toll on my dick y'know?" The man spoke in a pervasive whine as he threw his cards on the rounded, wooden table.  
"Wouldn't need to deal wi' that shit if you just went to the big boss." Another replied absently.  
"Naw‐ the big boss is kinda fucked up, don't you think?" The first said, although a hint of amusement rolled off his tongue as well. _

He had heard it- understood it. It had been around him his whole life, and yet he turned a shoulder. 

***

That night, Ziyi couldn't sleep. He wandered through the building aimlessly. Passing door after door. Taking step after step. He felt both guilty and angry. Guilty because he had turned a blind eye at the abuse some people he had known had affiliated themselves with. Angry because he himself had never done so, and should not be held accountable for such. The contrasting thoughts came and went in waves, everytime harder, faster, stronger. It materialized to something sharp- unrhythmic. Perhaps even hazardous. Like a needle sinking into the gap between nail and skin, it slid, grazed at both ends, tore them, he thought, peeled at both mercilessly. Yes, it was heavy on both ends. His mind ached with every switching thought. Who was the one to blame? Was there someone? There had to be. When trauma arises there is always a cause. Was he the guilty one? Ziyi clenched his fist, stuck his own nail between the gap of his index finger and began working to tear them apart. Could it be that he was both innocent and guilty? He twitched at the idea. The end of his nail snapped in two. 

After some uncertain amount of time had passed, he heard a door open. Ziyi's eyes shot up from his feet to the origin of the sound. Across the hall, someone had left his room. It was strange, he thought, since nobody was technically supposed to leave at night. He drew his brows and squinted. It was difficult to see in darkness, but once Ziyi got a little closer, he saw the flaxen locks. He saw that it was Cai Xukun. The two stared at one another momentarily. Xukun stepped back, eyes flaming. When Ziyi noticed the look he immediately clenched his fists, stepped forward instinctively, lips parted.

"Xukun-" 

Before Ziyi could speak, the blonde turned on his heels and began running in the opposite direction. Ziyi stood stunned for a moment. Then, instinct hit him and he ran after. He turned a corner and followed Xukun down a stairwell, both jumping over railings in their race. Nothing but steps and breaths echoed in the peak of night. He ran for the other, hopped over the railing, turned again, collided into a wall and spun on his toes once more. The building was shrouded in darkness, and Ziyi found himself relying on the sound of Xukun’s footsteps and the shrill huffs of breath for guidance. The front door opened, and they were both met with a slap of air. The sky was covered in sapphire milk, clouded in colorless remnants of clouds. Xukun ran for the forest just outside the building. Ziyi followed, sprinting faster now that they were in open space. 

No words were spoken, only panting breaths. The branches scratches at the men- warning them- wordlessly begging them not to move forward. They went on anyway. The elder caught onto the other quickly, as he had gotten good at running in his years with the gang. When Ziyi felt the burn catch his throat he lunged forward in a final attempt to stop the other from their chase. He didn't know why he followed, only that his legs were moving and mind racing. He grasped onto the back of Xukun's collar and the blonde tripped back with a sudden intake of a gasp. Ziyi slammed into the other and with the impact they stumbled forward, tripped over each other's legs, and fell, both rolling down a dip in the woods. When they reached the bottom, they both laid in pain. Ziyi let heavy breaths escape him, arms and face scratched from the fall. He heard rustling a few feet from himself and noticed Xukun scrambling to his feet. 

"Wait!" Ziyi gritted the first word since their chase had begun and lunged forward again. He grasped Xukun's ankle and the man fell once more, letting out a loud yelp.  
"Get off!" The blonde screamed as he immediately rolled to his back and began kicking at the other. They grappled with one another for a moment, both fighting for dominance. It was a messy affair. Sudden hits and lunges and grunts emanated through the thick darkness in the dead of night. There came a primitive desperation from both bodies. It lasted only a minute before Ziyi had won, and finally spoke again. 

"Not until we talk!" The elder replied when he finally had Xukun pinned under him. They struggled for a moment longer, Ziyi barely able to keep his grip. Then, after a moment, the scuffle finally settled. Ziyi let his breath return to him, panting like a mad man. He felt sweat water around his temples, down to his chin. When he finally settled, he looked at Xukun's face, about to speak until he caught sight of the other's eyes. 

They were wide, and sparkling with what looked like fear. His body was as tense as wood, fists still clenched but unmoving. His lips were sealed in a fine line. He didn’t make a single sound. He didn’t even breathe. Ziyi flinched back at the sight, suddenly realizing what sort of memories could have been sparked. He frowned apologetically and slowly climbed off the other, careful that another run may occur. It did not. Once he was off Xukun shot up to a sitting position, shuffled away a few feet, then stilled. All the while he kept his gaze locked onto the other's eyes, eyebrows drawn. They were silent for a moment. 

"I'm sorry," Ziyi said when the silence became stifling. He hadn't made a plan on what he would say or how he would deliver it. He scolded himself internally. 

Xukun didn't reply. He simply stayed still, watching. Ziyi swallowed. He stood to his feet. Xukun flinched and Ziyi instinctively stepped back before stilling himself. He waited to make sure Xukun wouldn't run again before moving on. 

"I know a little about what you've been through," he started, "the leader- I mean, I was told roughly what you'd experienced- and...I guess I knew a little bit about it before, you know, when I was with the...the gang.” He bit his lip, gaze averted from the other. He wished he’d had the time to think of something to say, but when his teeth retreated back to his mouth, the words spilled to his chin. “I don't know the details about your personal experiences but...I knew a little bit about it, you know, the process...I didn't personally take part in it though! Not once! It was more like I heard around from other people, and I guess I never understood the severity of the whole ordeal. I mean,” he hissed the echo of a dry, mirthless chuckle, “I didn't really think twice about it because it didn't affect me. It had absolutely nothing to do with me. Back then I was- I was really messed up in the head...I- anyway, that isn’t important, I guess what I'm trying to say is-"

"You were part of a gang." Xukun finally said. The words were quiet, his lips barely parted as he spoke. But they left like a venomous snake, and bit at the end of Ziyi's words. The elder shut his mouth, swallowing the poison. His eyes widened as Xukun stood to his feet, visibly vexed.  
"I was, but we weren't all the same." Ziyi retaliated. The words were quick and defensive.  
"Aren't you though?" Xukun seethed with a dry chuckle, "you said it yourself right? You knew people who took part in all that crap. You knew and- what was it again? It _didn't affect you?_ " 

Ziyi ran his fingers through it hair, pulled the strands back with a certain aggression, felt the sensitivity from the nail that had been broken in two. The battle of fault came again. Who was the culprit? Was it really him? All his life, he had viewed himself as nothing but a victim of existence. 

"That's not how I meant it.” He insisted, and it released much more aggressively than he had hoped. “I mean- yes, but, I- I wasn't- I'm not the same as them!"  
"No, you weren't," Xukun continued as he stepped closer, eyes clearly ignited by the man’s appeal. "You just let it happen. You sat there and listened to fucked up people talking about fucked up things, right?" He was facing Ziyi head up now, bodies only centimeters apart. His fists were clenched by his sides, and at that point, so were Ziyi's. A fume of anger emanated from both bodies. It pounded against the other. Grabbed onto the other. The tension twisted and writhed feverishly. Xukun leaned in close, eyes never leaving Ziyi's.

"I got fucked over by your people but," he narrowed his eyes then, "it didn't affect you." The words were whispered in a sweat of acid, nipping at the elder’s position, tearing at his own perception of himself. Ziyi’s teeth barred, and suddenly, he grabbed Xukun by the collar of his shirt and pushed him against a nearby tree.  
"Stop saying that!" The elder hissed. Xukun brought his hands to Ziyi's, but made no attempt at pulling them off. He chuckled instead, louder this time. So loud that Ziyi's eyes widened. He loosened his grip, faltered.  
"It affected _me!_ " Xukun suddenly screamed, and this close Ziyi could see how glassy his eyes had become. "I was separated from everything I knew! Do you know what it's like to be alone? To have nobody?"  
Ziyi felt a pit in his stomach, dropping like a boulder. His hands fell to his sides, hanging numbly. He watched as Xukun tumbled to sob in front of him.  
"Screw you." The words bubbled between shaking breaths, and Ziyi simply let him do it. He stood, eyebrows drawn together in inevitable crinkles. Several minutes passed before the sounds finally diluted to an uncomfortable quietude. How narrow minded had he been? Ziyi berated himself as he stood in silence. From the beginning he grappled with a person to blame, with a singular culprit. An individual. It was one versus the other. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility that there were a multitude of casualties. That, despite a difference in upbringing, the world could be just as insufferable to the next. 

"I do know," the elder started quietly, "what it's like to have nobody." 

Xukun stopped sniffling then, giving the other a look of inquiry.  
"That's why I keep joining these groups, families- whatever you want to call them. The gang, Mask, I'm looking for a community of people. One that fits my values." 

They were both silent for a moment. Ziyi took a breath.

"When I was eight, my dad died," he said when Xukun failed to reply fast enough to the first remark. "My mom had to work really hard for us to live comfortably, but in her extreme dedication she lost touch with me. I was alone. Always alone." He shuddered at the memory. "I needed someone- something- anything to fill that void. At the time, I wasn't right in the head. I joined a gang because it was all I knew. It was wrong. I was wrong." 

His gaze travelled back up to Xukun's eyes, who looked at the other incredulously.

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm serious, Xukun." Another pause came. Hesitation. "Right now, I say we set our differences aside and start anew. Isn't that what Mask is about? Cleansing our souls, creating a family?" 

Xukun didn't reply for a moment. He let his gaze move from Ziyi to something beyond the other. Then, he did.

"I know it wasn't you," he started, "I know you weren't the one who hurt me." He pushed himself off the tree then, moving past Ziyi, squinting up at the sky. "I still have some inner turmoil that I used to attack you. It was uncalled for." He spun around then, facing the other. He stretched out his hand, showing the elder the inkling of a smile. Understanding another would come with time, or maybe not ever, but accepting change is not so demanding. Enemies and victims are not a black and white painting, and separating them as such is unproductive in all senses. It is clearer, ironically, to accept shades of grey.

"Alright, Wang Ziyi. Let's start anew."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have risen from the grave


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xukun and Ziyi's backstory part 4/4 (the escape)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: depiction of torture (although not criminally detailed)
> 
> Thank you all for your patience! Here's the next chapter :)

Months had passed, and Cai Xukun and Wang Ziyi grew closer every day. The others questioned their sudden congeniality, exhorting for some credible answer to bite into. The change in how they approached one another didn't occur overnight—that much was clear, but one could not deny how months of purposeful separation molded to a peculiar friendship. It was a gradual rowback on dissociation. Like waves over buried shells, every interaction led to the shedding of soiled premonition. Slowly, they unveiled themselves. 

The interactions were rocky at first—with Wang Ziyi and Cai Xukun, it began with awkward smiles and courteous conversation—although that too, some of the others would whisper, that too was quite awkward. And they would cringe and return to their mundane, circuited tasks in spite of their brewing interest. 

Tackling the lack of natural exchanges did set the two men on a starchy basis. The gentle smiles that would meet between them were perhaps the only pleasured gesture. A small nod, then a smile, and, unfailingly, they would turn away and fiddle with their thumbs like timid children waiting for the other to come forward. It was ingenuous—naive almost. They were, rather, shy in nature—hesitant to speak. Alas, with time the distant smiles grew larger, and with it the men drew closer. The weight that bore their relationship diminished and shifted to something that was relaxed, and even amiable to some degree. They stepped forward finally, and with it came a sudden switch of a light. Raised brows circled like wildfire at the newborn relationship. And in its nature it generated curious inquiries. 

It first happened to Cai Xukun when he had gone for firewood with Huang Xinchun and Lu Dinghao. It was a balmy, mid-summer day, and when the air became stifling, they agreed to take a moment of time to relax within the edge of the meadow. They had pulled up the hem of their trousers and slipped into a nearby brook as a form of respite upon returning the pounds of wood back to their home. They waded through the stream, calves submerged within the gentle push of glaucous water. Around them, the birds warbled and the breeze fingered their hair delightfully. Dinghao and Xinchun exchanged glances, both nudging at the other to begin the conversation. It only ended when Xukun turned, fists balled against his thighs and locks knotted from the wind. His grin cowered when he saw the look the other two held.

"What?" He asked quizzically.  
There was a ring of silence before Xinchun spoke, voice abrupt and loud, and yet the timidity was present.  
"What's with you and Ziyi?" He sputtered. Dinghao gave the speaker a look, eyes cringing as they rose.  
"Um...nothing?" The blonde replied.  
"Was it the night you two were running around?" Dinghao ejaculated suddenly. His voice was in its customary, static sound, but a sense of curiosity made itself clear in the way his voice pitched when the statement finished. 

Xukun stood for a moment, not realizing that he had unfurled his hands and allowed his trousers to drop into the stream.  
"How did you—"  
"He doesn't sleep. Walks around sometimes, creeps on people." Xinchun explained.  
When a bewildered expression made itself clear, and an awkward silence followed, Dinghao quipped an "insomnia," as though it would help.  
"Actually he was on his way to my room," Xinchun continued, "he always comes in without warning, just to talk about weird things. He rants about Yanjun _a lot_ —like, I swear it never ends—I mean, you know how he is—"  
"That guy sure has an superiority complex," Dinghao agreed with a prolonged nod. "Sometimes I wanna jack him in the nose."  
"And I _tell him_ to go back to sleep," Xinchun went on as though he had not heard Dinghao's most recent, and concerning, statement, "but, you know, I mean, _you know_ how Dinghao is—he's, you know, well, you know." 

Another silence arose between the three. The stream swayed, the breeze settled, and the two men with inquiries dipped their questioning eyes. Then, Xukun released a small chuckle. It reverberated, only for a moment, and then he was pulling at his trousers again, climbing out to the solid verdant.  
"You guys are weird," he commented briefly before trudging back to where they have left the stack of firewood tied in braided ropes. The blonde threw it over his shoulder and eged the others to join him. As they followed, neither had mentioned that he failed to give them a proper response. 

For Ziyi, it happened on one of his trips back out to the city. He was in the car with Xingjie. The two had gotten close through the few times they went out together to collect material goods and necessities. Xingjie was different, Ziyi decided. Different from what his first impression of the man was—which, if he was honest, wasn't much of anything at all. And he was different from some of the other veteran members. He was quite idle outside his duties, and seemed to consider things more loosely than others. Perhaps, Ziyi decided, it was because he spent the most time outside their little, secluded venue that he didn't emit such traditional views. Or that he didn't seem as apt to follow the strict regulations they had. His mind seemed supple, almost maverick. Ziyi liked that a lot. 

"You and Xukun," the driver, Xingjie had said one day when the two of them were in the car. His window was open, and he moved only to pick the cigarette off his lips and rest his wrist over the window's slit. His eyes never met Ziyi's, but the younger could see that Xingjie's lips curled almost devilishly at the tip. Ziyi turned to the man, eyebrow raised. When all that was offered in response to the questionable glance was a breath of smoke, Ziyi spoke.  
"What about it?"  
Xingjie's smirk elongated. He shrugged, placed the roll back between his teeth, and turned to the road that would lead them to public life. He didn't ask again, and Ziyi let the conversation end at that. 

Over time everyone quit asking about the two. Their relationship became too cumbersome to try and place, and eventually all strained from persistent inquiry and reverted to their customary tasks. The leader kept an eye on it. He had asked them both about it on separate conditions. It would be dangerous, he thought, if they got too close. Mask was one entity, and it unnerved him that Xukun could accept Ziyi so easily. He received brief replies from the men, always along the lines of "we're trying to get along," or, "we've come to terms with our differences." 

Soon, everyone dismissed it. The smiles turned to polite conversation, and that conversation rose to become hours of chatter. They would sneak to the other's room at night, opting to converse some more over a good night's sleep. The understanding they had with one another took on a different form. It appeared that, despite being born in different places, they came to appreciate the other as an individual who lived both a similar and opposing life. They had both started in a place void of familial relationships—Xukun when he had lost Zhou Rui, and Ziyi when he had lost his mother's approval. And yet even though the response to this loss led both men to polar ends of themselves, their rebuttal was met at Mask. They decided that they had both started together, grown to live separate lives, then, in an attempt at rebirth, returned to meet again in the same place. And for a long time, they adored Mask, and wouldn't change how their lives had collided.

For a long time, they were content.  
And then one day, one of them wasn't.

***

"Ziyi—hey, Ziyi! Wake up!" 

Ziyi's eyes flew open. It was the middle of the night, and Xukun was kneeling over his bed, hands grasped onto the older's arms. His grip was unmistakably firm, so much so that Ziyi could feel the other's nails cut into his skin. The blonde's voice was desperate—no, dolorous, no—it was too difficult to tell. But the grip was there, and Xukun was shaking the other back and forth. 

Ziyi blinked a few times and propped himself onto his elbows.  
"Kun? What is it?" He blubbered hazily. He squinted at the other in an attempt to decipher what was happening. When his senses began returning to him, he heard numerous footsteps and voices echoing behind his door. His eyes whisked over the entry, where he saw bodies hurrying by.  
"Get up," Xukun ordered as he pulled on one of Ziyi's arms. Despite the steely tone, his voice was urgent, almost anxiety based, and as Ziyi pushed himself up, he decided that it must have been desperation after all.

"Why? What's happening?" The older asked, and his gaze flickered to his opened door again, where he saw the continuous flock of bodies scurry down the hallway. Xukun stepped back, eyes array and face pale. He headed for Ziyi's door, where he turned back only to say, "get your mask. We're doing a cleansing ritual." 

Ziyi had no idea what that meant. What he did know, however, was that Xukun—no—everyone was in a hurry. If it was important enough to be woken up in the middle of the night, he knew the questions would have to come later. The man launched himself to his feet and grabbed the mask from his desk. When he fled his doorway he was met with a few other bodies. Everyone, he noticed, looked pale. But he dismissed it. He convinced himself that it was probably just the darkness, or the fact that he wasn't fully awake yet. Just as he began following the rest, however, he was grabbed by the arm. He turned, meeting eyes with Xingjie. When he raised his eyebrows, the other frowned—almost sympathetically, before he released the hold and went on with them. 

Ziyi couldn't understand why, but he suddenly felt the anxiety stir all around him, centering him within it. Yes, it was desperation he heard in Xukun's voice, and it was sympathy he saw in Xingjie's eyes, and he couldn't understand why. He hated not knowing, but with the looks he received, he couldn't help but wonder if he was better off being clueless. 

They were outside then, headed for open land. He moved with the crowd that advanced like herded sheep. They stopped several feet from a long pole and began creating a circle around it. Ziyi followed helplessly, looking left and right at his peers for some form of direction to guide his heightening confusion. He was grabbed by the arm once more and pulled next to someone. It was Xingjie. The man's expression was stoic in a physical lens, and yet, his eyes seemed to be screaming something different—it was graphic—pertinent and wild, and then, before it could be identified, his mask was placed over his face. Ziyi quickly noted that everyone had done it, and without second thought, he capitulated, and did the same as the rest of the sheep.

When he finally had time to absorb all that was going on around him, Ziyi found that it was a body that was hanging on the pole. A human body. He could not identify it, but it was there. It looked sickly and emaciated. It's arms were tied over its head with braided ropes, and the body hung with only that like ornaments on a tree. The pole—he realized, the pole was a cross. He wanted to speak up—to question the scenario. Was it alive? Dead? Where did it come from? Why was it there? Why were they there? Alas, he abstained. Nobody else did, why should he? 

Why _should_ he? Why _couldn't he?_ There were so many of them. They were one entity. He could not move. 

It was then that the leader stepped forward, heading for the body. Everyone was on their knees then, and Ziyi found himself being pulled roughly by Xingjie. His knees hit the ground hard, and he felt a sharp pain shoot up to his head. Beads of sweat travelled down his temple, and again over the first knob of his spine. He acquiesced, eyes peeled over the mire below him. The grass was rigid and burnt, and he could hear it crack like breaking bones everytime the leader took a step towards the body. He shuddered, and wondered again why he couldn't bring himself to lift a finger. 

"All that conspire against us," the man started in a loud, nefarious tone, "fall from salvation, and are met with eternal damnation." 

Ziyi vaguely heard a sound emerge from the body, his eyes froze onto it, petrified for what would ensue. The leader, however, refused to accede to any fight. Ziyi wondered again why nobody moved—why he didn't move. And yet, it felt impossible. He realized for the first time that the place was more than authoritarian—it was anarchic. They were one entity only until one of them strayed from the others—and then that body was destroyed. 

The scenery came in a moment of understanding. That all talk of family ties and words of wisdom, when unmasked, was mindless numbing through repetition and falsified readings. Heinous intentions slept beneath every whisper, and slowly, with every crack of grass, they deepened. The leader's words were careful and unmistakably calm. And Ziyi came to realize that the man wasn't a leader at all but just that—a man. A man who had mastered the art of manipulation. And he himself had been fooled. 

A mask identical to the ones resting on all of their faces was placed onto the victim's skin. And then, a splitting scream. The mask, Ziyi realized, the mask was scorching, and it was being burned onto his flesh. He could hear the skin melt like wax beneath the cries as the victim writhed like a madman. His screams bled through Ziyi's ears, locked into them, and echoed thunderously within his head. The raven haired man gripped his fists against the ground, but found that, even after all that, he simply could not move. 

He was afraid. 

When the cries finally diluted to silence, they all stood, Ziyi himself being pulled up by Xingjie once more. His entire body stilled, it felt as though, if he moved or released a breath, he'd shatter into himself. And for the first time since he'd arrived, he wondered if it were the right place to be. They returned to their rooms, and when Ziyi fell into his bed and all was silent, he sobbed.

***

For weeks, Ziyi refused to leave his room. He would sit on his bed with his thighs against his chest and stare at his ivory sheets. He ate sparingly. Everyday, one of the members would knock, open to the door sheepishly, and lay the plate on Ziyi's desk. They would open their mouths sometimes—as if to say "it isn't as bad as it seems," or, "it's because we had to," and then proceed to offer some nonsense form of justification through tedious verses they received from some sort of gospel, wherever that was from. But they never did speak, and Ziyi knew it was because _they knew_ it could never be justified. Not really. Not fully. 

The leader came once too, frowned as though he cared for Ziyi, placed a hand over the member's shoulder. And Ziyi would recoil at the touch, wanting to burn off the skin that was touched by that man. He was lectured by the leader, but failed to grasp any of it. It was tenacious—all of it, it was for nothing. And yet the man would blather unconditionally. It was bullshit this and bullshit that and it manipulated everyone. The leader spoke of cleansing rituals as a reminder to heed his warnings and follow their gospel. There were other ways to do so—stoning, starvation, anything that could torture someone to appease. Ziyi hated all of it. The smiles the leader gave—the frowns—the empathy, it was all counterfeit. And when he finished, the leader stood, and he left. 

Ziyi didn't sleep much either, but when he did, he always found himself in a large body of water. He couldn't breathe or swim, he would simply fall into the darkness of the abyss. He could hear echoes of bullets and the whistle of a train. They were subdued at first, then they grew louder. When he heard a whistle scream into his ear and felt a bullet scathe the other, he began floundering within the body. Below him, nails would rake his flesh and lacerate his calves. When he looked below, he could see clouded figure within the dark, turbid waters. On one ankle his mother, and on the other the old man. Like banshees, their eyes stretched to an unshapely fashion and oozed a blackened, syrupy fluid. Their jaws snapped open and wailed unsaintly pronouncements. _Your fault._ They would repeat without end. _The violence. The murder. The boy being fucked. The torture on the cross._ The words bled like thick poison, and his mind was riven with bullets and whistles and wailing banshees. _Your fault. Your fault._ They would chorus. When the scene finally crumbled, he was surrounded by flames instead of water, and the deafening screams he had heard on the night of the cleansing returned to him. Sometimes, he would be the one to carry a stone, and ropes would be tied to his arm like a puppet. He would throw the stones unwillingly at a body. He would see the purpleing flesh. He would see the gashes lined like prison bars against bare skin. And when he stepped forward and got a closer look at the victim, he realized that the body was his own. 

Ziyi awoke abruptly. 

It was dark. The middle of the night, the man presumed. He saw a figure sitting in the shadows, and he knew it was Xukun again. The blonde had been spending most nights in Ziyi's room since the elder began locking himself within it. He would sit. Sometimes he would try and talk, or coax Ziyi into eating a little more. But the conversations never lasted, and eventually Xukun would leave. 

Ziyi sighed when he met eyes with Xukun, and the younger stood to his feet, stepped forward, and placed a hand on Ziyi's forehead. The elder quickly parried the motion with a raise of his arm, and Xukun backed off a little. He dipped his eyes and clenched his fists. 

"Leave," the elder croaked weakly. He was befoged with lack of sleep and nutrition.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Xukun asked gently. A few nights ago he would have beseeched the elder, raised his voice a little or urged him to get up, but he had given up on that when he had witnessed its failure. Ziyi was, in all likelihood, completely enervated. The man couldn't look Xukun in the eye. Instead he placed himself so he could look at the opposing wall. When there was no reply, Xukun spoke again, recalling the incident that had led Ziyi to his current position.  
"You would understand if you knew what the guy had done—"  
"I don't care, Xukun," Ziyi said with a heavy sigh, "it doesn't matter if he simply broke a rule or if he killed a person. It doesn't justify torture."  
There were a few moments of silence before the younger muttered his reply.  
"It's not torture...it's cleansing."  
When the words hit Ziyi clenched his fists around his sheets and shut his eyes, tensing as though someone had flagged an attack. Nonetheless, he didn't speak, his eyes only flickered towards the door—a message to be left alone. The younger shook his head. 

"Ziyi...Ziyi you can't keep doing this to yourself," Xukun countered then, and the pain in his voice was promising enough on it's own, but Ziyi shook it off. He was getting tired of Xukun's being there.  
"Doing what?" He responded after a couple minutes, and the tone was sharper than it was before.  
"Hurting yourself—"  
"Why not?"  
"Because...because—"  
"Why not!?" Ziyi suddenly shot, his anger rose like a spark, he was hungry, tired, and full of uncontrollable rage. "All I've ever done is hurt others! From my mother, to my peers at school, to every person I caused pain towards—directly or indirectly—with the gang, to trying to clean myself up by being a part of a cult that tortures innocent people I—no matter how hard I try I just bring pain to other people!"  
"Ziyi they'll hear you—" Xukun quickly pleaded in a whisper as he reached to calm the other down. Alas, the elder grabbed the blonde by the arm and pushed him away.  
"What was it all for!?" He yelled instead, daring the others to come and do the same to him as they had done to countless others. There was silence then.

"What was it all for?" Ziyi asked again, weakly this time, as though he had been punched so hard the air left his lungs and all he could do was breath a quick word. "My life, what was it for in the end?" Xukun fell to his knees then, and, unable to face the other, cowered into himself.  
"It's...I don't know," he admitted in an equal tone. And then there was silence again. The elder sighed, then turned away from the other.  
"Leave, Xukun, just leave. Please."  
"Ziyi it's- it's a way of life it's- I mean those who follow Mask are on a way to eternal salvation!" Xukun started desperately, "we're a family and we just need to- to flesh out the evil. That's the whole purpose! If we just-"  
"God, Xukun _shut up!_ " Ziyi suddenly snapped, he stared down at the other, clearly vexed. "You're so brainwashed you don't even know what you're saying! You're repeating the same bullshit—just like everyone else in this damned place! You're all carbon copies! I know none of you actually like this, but you're all too damn scared to say a thing. Like some sick bystander effect." He chuckled mirthlessly, "I guess I'm no different, all I've ever known how to do is run from my mistakes. I'm no better, am I?" 

Xukun looked taken aback at first, then stood to his feet. "That's not—"  
"Xukun," Ziyi locked eyes with the other, " _please,_ just leave me alone." 

Xukun opened his mouth, closed it again. And then, with only a moment's hesitation, he was gone. 

Ziyi decided didn't sleep again that night. He decided abruptly that he would be the first person to leave Mask for good. And he began constructing a plan to do so. It would, however, comprise of fooling the entire cult. If he could pull it off, that is.

***

The next morning, Ziyi walked out of his room for the first time in several days. Slowly, he returned to the routine he had accepted when he had arrived for the first time. He made sure that it wasn't fast enough to seem fake, but not slow enough to cast him as a rebellious subject of Mask. Most were overjoyed that he had apparently overcome his sentiment, others were still skeptical. But with time, they realized he was back to his old self. 

The leader had, unsurprisingly, withdrawn his duty of leaving the venue with Xingjie. Ziyi knew he would. It would be dangerous, after all, to let someone leave the site when he had recently been so at odds with the values of the cult. Ziyi decided that, if he pretended to cohere with every morale and teaching, that he might reestablish his initial granting of public dealings. Months passed, and Ziyi managed to upkeep a professional veil. He attended every reading, carried out all his tasks, and followed every word the leader told him. More rituals occurred, including another cleansing ritual. Ziyi remained unprovoked the second time around, choosing to emanate an image of total re-conditioning. Whatever was left to inculcate, Ziyi swallowed, and belched from his mind in silence. He slipped from his facade sometimes—when his clay mask was over his face, and nobody could see him, he'd shatter. And when it was off again, he'd wear one that was invisible to others. 

When the next summer arrived, Ziyi had managed to upkeep the act long enough to fool everyone within Mask. He returned to getting material goods with Xingjie, and continued to keep up good relations with all the members. He became the ideal member—the perfect mindless drone the leader had wanted them to become. Every action he made and every word he said in the last year was carefully crafted to paint himself as the one who was most loyal to them. A few times he'd catch himself slipping—catch himself enjoying the days he spent with friends or the nights with Xukun. They melted him like butter, and he'd lose balance, sometimes, and then he'd catch himself before he fell, opting to keep himself upright despite the effort it took. It almost saddened him that his opportunity to escape was approaching rapidly. And he scolded himself for hesitating once. 

It was scorching hot Sunday the day he left. Looking back, Ziyi didn't know if it was because it was especially hot that summer's day or if it was the anxiety and anticipation pumping his adrenaline rush. He was to go out to town with Xingjie for some goods. However, he knew that, for the first time since the cult began, Xingjie would be coming back alone. And that they'd never see him again. 

Ziyi didn't pack anything as to prevent causing unnecessary suspicion. He shoved some spare money into his pocket and went straight to Xukun's room. He came in without knocking and quickly shut the door behind himself. Xukun stood abruptly from where he sat at his desk, eyes wide and questioning. 

"Kun," Ziyi started, and he looked for the right words to say, but alas, he had no time, and anything he had managed to thread together prior to opening the door unraveled in an instant.  
"Yeah?" The words swept off the other's lips warily. He was still in shock from the sudden apparition, and by no mistake perplexed by the urgency in Ziyi's voice. He took a few steps towards the other man, but the act was immediately shut down when Ziyi announced, "I'm leaving," and added nothing more. Xukun stopped in his tracks, eyebrows bowing and reeling together. He blinked, shook his head a few times, and took another—albeit smaller, step forward.  
"I don't understand," he said, and Ziyi ran his clammy fingers through his hair before replying.  
"I'm going out today—with Xingjie—"  
"To get supplies," Xukun finished with a sudden smile. "Yeah, I know."  
"Yeah but—"  
"God, Ziyi, you scared me for a second." 

And Ziyi shut his lips when he heard it. The alarm that previously devoured the blonde's eyes had been scoured with relief. He was grinning, beauty mark hopping with the apple of his cheek. It would be unpleasant to be the one to rip it away, and Ziyi considered, momentarily at least, not saying a word about it. To leave with Xingjie having seen the other man smile as substitution for a goodbye. He mopped the thought away, throwing his initial idea back into motion. He only hoped it would work. 

"No, Kun, I'm...I'm actually leaving," he locked eyes with the other then, "and I'm not gonna come back. Ever."  
Xukun's smile fell, and Ziyi nearly flinched at the sight of it. There was a moment of silence between the two, and Ziyi balanced himself from heel to heel in anticipation for the answer. He didn't have much time. He would have to leave soon.  
"What do you mean? Ziyi, you can't leave," Xukun forced a chuckle, but it was dull, and left his lips like a puff of flour.  
"Yes I can, and I will. I'm going into town. I'll be able to deal with Xingjie on my own."  
"But...why?"  
Ziyi swallowed hard. "You know why," he said, "I don't agree with any of this—since the first ritual—"  
"But that was a year ago. Why would you wait so long?" Xukun asked, raising his voice significantly. Ziyi rolled his tongue in his mouth before answering.  
"I was waiting for the right time to do it," he admitted, "everything I've said or done for Mask since last year was a _lie._ I played the part so I could gather the utmost trust—seem like the most loyal of the pack, if you want to put it that way. It needed to be unexpected." 

When Xukun didn't reply, Ziyi continued, hoping more explanation would help.  
"I've been planning too, since I was given the right to go out again—Xingjie he—after getting the necessary supplies he tends to go out and get cigarettes. He let's me go out and do my own thing too, and sometimes I think he really doesn't care all that much about Mask...anyway, I would go to the library and search for cheap apartments on their computers, nearby jobs available, you name it. And I've been saving some of the extra cash too, you know, from the expeditions. When I go out today, I'm going to take all of the cash that the leader gave Xingjie for the outing, and I'll make a run for it once we drive far enough away. I'll run until I'm gone for good and—"

"Wait." Xukun suddenly spoke, bringing up his hands and inching back to the point of nearly falling over. He blinked slowly, trying to process all that was being said to him. Ziyi sighed.  
"Look I know it's sudden, but I don't have much time—"  
"You're leaving...just like that?" The blonde's voice cracked at the last word, falling apart before it could be explained. Ziyi stepped forward then, and brought his hand up to cup Xukun's cheek into his palm. He ran a nimble thumb across the man's cheek before speaking again, this time low and reposeful.  
"You should come with me." 

Xukun hesitated, met eyes with Ziyi, then quickly averted his gaze. Ziyi swore he could see an inkling of contemplation within the other's orbs, something rebellious and impulsive. A thirst for freedom. But in the end, Xukun simply raised his hand and peeled the elder's touch from his skin. Ziyi frowned at the gesture, and found himself looking away as well.

"I can't," Xukun admitted weakly, "this is all I know."  
"But you could learn something else—figure out the world for yourself. Don't you want to? I mean, from an orphanage to hotels to a cult where you aren't permitted to leave. Aren't you tired of being imprisoned?"  
Xukun bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. He was contemplating again and Ziyi knew it.  
"The last time I was free in the world, I nearly died." He said in a way that would satisfy his lifestyle and quell his dwellings.  
"But you were alone before...you won't be anymore. I mean—if you come with me, we could, you know, figure it out together." He stretched an arm and grazed his fingers over Xukun's hand. "I could get you in the car with us, you know, if you hid in the back until I deal with Xingjie, and then we'd—"

Xukun pulled his hand away and shook his head back and forth. He couldn't look Ziyi in the eye, and it tore at the man. Ziyi's hope quickly dwindled to understanding. Xukun wouldn't come with him. He wondered briefly if he should hug the man, or give him a proper goodbye. But the quietude felt heavy all of a sudden, and he decided against it.  
"Alright, I have to go." The elder whispered solemnly as he started for the door. He was stopped only by a hand in his. He looked at his hand, then at the man who had intertwined them.  
"Can't you stay? Can't you reconsider?" Xukun sounded desparate now, and it hurt Ziyi to pull away from him. He didn't reply, but instead walked past Xukun and to the man's desk. He ripped the corner of a paper and scribble over it with a black pen. When he finished, he handed the note to Xukun, only stating that, "it's the address. The place I'm going to stay once I leave." 

And then he was gone.

It was a possibility that Xukun could turn in the address to the leader and get him into trouble, but Ziyi found that albeit the possibility, he doubted it too much. And he prayed that one day, the address would be one that Xukun followed. And that one day, they'd meet again in a happier place.

***

"Just don't fucking attack me—please," Xingjie said flatly with a puff of his cigarette as the two drove closer to the city. Ziyi's eyes snapped towards the other man. _Does he know?_ He wondered, hand still grasping the weapon in his pocket. Xingjie chuckled at the reaction, and placed the bud between his lips again. And, as though he could read the other's mind, he answered Ziyi's thoughts.  
"I'm a people person. I know people," he added, "and I know you think that place is a shitshow in the making. You're planning to leave." 

Ziyi frowned, perplexed at the turn of events.  
"You're not going to stop me?" He inquired. Xingjie shrugged, and just as nonchalantly said, "not my place to. Where do you want me to drop you off?"  
Ziyi's jaw fell open then. He knew Xingjie was more lenient than the rest of them, he always had been. It was one of the reasons they were so close. But even then, he hadn't expected complete success without lifting a finger. Xingjie rolled his eyes at the look he was given.  
"Don't look at me like that, you know me. Besides, I don't feel like getting into a fight with you. What were you planning to do anyway?"  
"Knock you out—I didn't plan on hurting you—"

Xingjie smirked at the statement.  
"Damn, in the middle of the road too? While I'm driving?" He laughed a little, "I've got to admit, you have guts. Honestly…" he rolled the thought around his mouth before speaking again, "...maybe I would have tried to stop you—if you were someone else. But I'm impressed you've held off from running away for an entire year, just so that nobody would suspect it. And with your duty as a supplies guy, nobody would question your being in town. It looks like it all fell into place for you, you're lucky. Besides," he looked over at Ziyi then, "part of me wants to see if someone can truly escape flawlessly."  
"Won't you get into trouble. I mean, if you come back without me, they'll know you let me go." Ziyi said. Xingjie released a long sigh and agreed with the statement. It was then that he quickly pulled over, half a mile away from the city. He motioned for the other to get out of the car, and warily, Ziyi did. He stepped to the travelled surface and immediately felt his knees try to buckle below him. He tightened his grip over the weapon, and glanced over to Xingjie.

"Don't get your dick in a knot. I'm not gonna stop you, but you're right, it would be suspicious. You should knock me out anyway, just so I'll have the injury to prove my innocence. Just don't go too hard big guy, I'd like to return to consciousness within an hour."  
Ziyi blinked, looking for some sign of deception in the other's eyes. Slowly, he released his grip over the weapon.  
"But first let me finish this roll." Xingjie quipped with a sigh as he sat on the side of the road, forest behind him. Ziyi hesitated, then sat next to the man. They sat in silence for awhile, and Ziyi thought again that he would probably end up missing Xingjie too. 

"And you," Ziyi said after a few minutes, "I know you aren't like the others. You think a lot of this is bullshit too, don't you? You could have left plenty of times, so why don't you?"  
Xingjie shrugged. "It's complicated. When you're there for so long, you develop an attachment to it. And the people—the people are hard to leave. Another reason why I'm shocked you managed to carry out your plan even after a year."  
Ziyi nodded but didn't speak again. He simply inhaled the strong scent of a dirty ashtray coming from his left, and stared at the road ahead. After several more minutes Xingjie stood. He dusted himself off and proceeded to stretch out a hand to pull Ziyi to his feet.  
"Alright, lay it on me," he muttered.  
"I'm sorry," Ziyi said.  
"Don't be sorry. Just don't back out, alright? Finish what you started." 

And then he was out. Ziyi grabbed the money, stuffed it into his pocket again, and, with a final glance at the man, he fled for a new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took long enough but I'm finally done with Xukun and Ziyi's arc. Honestly, I considered stretching it out to 5 chapters and add another one after this but I eventually concluded that I'd just cut some scenes a little short and make this one a tad longer. 
> 
> Anyway, in the next chapter we'll finally be back to the main time period!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who writes nice comments, I appreciate them so much and it really gives me the initiative to keep writing :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Mask makes their first move, Yanjun finds himself hesitating between two outcomes. Ziyi and Xukun open up to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After months we're finally back on the main timeline!

Yanjun ran his fingers through Zhangjing's locks, inhaling everything the smaller was. His gentle breathing, his tousled hair, the hand that was still holding onto Yanjun's. The younger was resting on his arm, simply watching with unparalleled fondness. His attention was wonted, and yet the emotions for Zhangjing that had dulled over time were vibrant again. 

And that was why he vacillated so frequently between what was truly best for the other.

The problem was that one of Yanjun's major flaws had been amplified to the nth degree in the past few weeks. That flaw being an inability to keep up his facade when it mattered most. It was astounding—debatably pathetic, for God's sake—how quickly he regressed to being unable to control neither his emotions nor his words. He felt shame smolder him, felt seedy, even, when he thought of his enterprise—but then again, he couldn't ignore the elation devouring his consciousness. It would touch his mind, travel to his heart and even reach the tips of his fingers. And he'd thank Zhangjing for it. Secretly. To himself. He'd wish to feel it again. He'd pray, covertly—guiltily, that he could remain the way he was. That they all could. In the studio with his friends. Were they his friends? He had realized just how much he had gotten involved with the people during his mission. Even the dance team: Zhengting, Zeren, they showed him small levels of acceptance he hadn't seen before, and with the help of Chaoze and Zhangjing, could he begin to open up? But then there was Yanchen, the one member that made him nervous. _The damned bastard. He's too sharp._

In the beginning, Yanjun had wanted to keep a professional attitude, but that inclination was snapped before it had even begun. He had taken a misstep—slipped and tumbled too early. Without guard, he came to feel a frenzy of emotions while out on his trip. 

Zhangjing had reminded him of how it felt to have one's heart melt and buckle and pound all at once. He was drowned in sentimentality when conversing with Chaoze; his first real friend. He had even gotten to like some of the other members of the dance group. They were open, unrestrained, and unbound by unconstitutional laws. While he spun a lock of chestnut coloured hair around his pinky, Yanjun wished with such profound spirit that they could all stay as they were. That maybe he could go along with the lie he had told Ziyi and Xukun—warp it into the truth. Make it _become_ the truth. Maybe he could drop the mission. Wenjun already seemed iffy about it anyway, it could be easy. _Yeah,_ he told himself, _I was running from Mask too, Wenjun and I—we fled together. I had the idea of leaving. I'm staying with an old friend for now, since it's the only place I've got. It was a coincidence that Ziyi and Xukun were there too. And we'll stay here. I'll stay here, in his embrace. And I'll peel away at my past, one damned layer at a time._

Just then, Yanjun felt his phone vibrate, triggering the ignition of a shiver up his spine. He knew exactly what it was; a message from Mask. His time was up, and they would be arriving shortly. Right then and there. 

Yanjun swallowed harshly, forcing his mind back where it was meant to be. _Get it together, damn it._ He reminded himself of his initial reasoning. Of his duty, his loyalties. Nevermind the others—they would grow to understand Mask as he and many others had. And they would be together there, too. _Keep it together._ Rational. Analytical. Prudent. There was no escaping, he had to finish what he'd started. He inhaled a sharp breath, and woke up the other. 

Zhangjing's eyelids peeled open slowly. He released a statement that came in a blubbering mess—still heavy in sleep's daze.  
"Yanjun?" He whispered when he saw the younger place his index finger against his lips, "what's wrong?"  
"I'll explain later, but you need to follow me now. And be quiet. This is crucial, Zhangjing. You need to be _quiet._ "

Yanjun took the other by the hand and quickly began leading him out of the cottage. As he closed the door behind him, he looked back only once. And in the distance, Yanjun swore he could hear the sound of confinement, rushing to grasp new victims. To swallow them whole and keep them locked under the jaws of hegemony. People Yanjun had provided on a silver platter. 

***

Ziyi and Xukun were both wide awake. Neither could sleep—neither dared to close their eyes for longer than a second. Both sat cross-legged on a bed, eyes scanning the room, the window, and the door. Their ears were perched and listening for any strange noises. The others were long past asleep, snoring and snuffling blithely in adjoining rooms. Ziyi and Xukun, however—the runaways, were tired—surfeited with the rigorous games that had ensued. Evil games. Ones of cat and mouse turned violent. The exhaustion of mind and body drained every bit of repose they strived for. And yet common sense kept them grounded. So they sat. And they watched. And they listened.

Xukun bit his lip. He was especially antsy—for more reasons than one. He was guilty and afraid. It ate him up inside. And somehow, this feeling galvanized him into speech.

"Ziyi," he whispered with such delicacy it would fail to be audible if not for the fact that they were both on their toes, particularly regardful and attentive to their surroundings. The elder turned his attention over to Xukun.  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm sorry," he said, and his voice was especially tremulous. His gaze had dropped to his thighs, where he fiddled with his nails. Ziyi didn't speak for a moment. He placed a hand over Xukun's, careful to untangle the man's fingers, hesitated, then kept them there. The blonde stared at the gesture, refusing to look elsewhere. Their hands were intertwined, but Ziyi's was gently—mindfully placed overtop of the younger's. And yet it didn't move again. His hand was warm, Xukun noted, warmer than his, anyway. And although he knew it was only because the anxiety had caused the older's body to boil underneath his skin, Xukun basked in a warped sense of security.  
"This isn't a good time," the dark haired man finally whispered. 

Xukun knew what Ziyi meant. They were supposed to be watchful—acutely aware of every movement. Ready to dart into action at any given moment—if that moment would come, that is. There were no distractions allowed. And the man knew that, Xukun understood that if he spoke of grief, a certain thought would settle into themselves. One that convinced the two that they really were trapped. That, if Xukun had to speak now, it was because he wouldn't be able to do it later. He wouldn't be able if they were caught that night. That it would be their last chance to speak freely to each other. Ziyi didn't want to consider it, so he dodged the bullet completely. 

Xukun understood, but that didn't mean it would stop him. 

"Ziyi," he whispered again, although this time there was a lingering urgency in his voice. One that demanded to be heard. He felt Ziyi's hand flinch overtop of his own, but he didn't put a stop to the blonde again. Xukun turned to face the other now, who had, surprisingly, already locked his eyes onto Xukun. His expression was soft— almost thoughtful—but then, the distress was visible in the way the brown of his orbs darkened like unmilked coffee.  
"I don't want your apology," Ziyi said, and despite his voice coming quiet, there was an undeniable firmness to it. Xukun shook his head.  
"I need to say it. I need to get it all out so it can stop gnawing at me all the time. It's always there, you know, the guilt. And you should be angry with me, or leave me. I mean, I would, if I were you. I deserve it. But you know, Ziyi, I'm selfish. I'm a really selfish person. Because even though I know it isn't fair, I want you to look me in the eye and say you forgive me after all of this. I want to believe it was all just a fluke and that I didn't bring this fear upon us. So, please, let me say it." 

Xukun hadn't realized how his voice rose as he spoke, and when he finally cut his speech short, he recognized it, and quieted himself down again. 

"I'm aware that it's my fault. I mean, I didn't go with you the first time. When you asked me that day to leave with you—in Xingjie's car. If I had, I could have had all this," he waved his hand lazily, gesticulating in no specified direction, "without the constant apprehension, or much less of it, anyway. But I didn't. I stayed. That was my choice, and I should have lived with that choice and dealt with the consequences, even when I grew to regret it."  
"I gave you the address, Kun," Ziyi interrupted for the first time. "I wanted—"  
"That's irrelevant, Ziyi. I should have lived with the product of my own actions. And even if I had gathered enough self-interest to follow you, I could have waited—thought of a better plan. But I was desperate at the time, and selfish. I wanted to escape so badly, Ziyi, I wanted to see you and be with you. I left without a question in mind. And unconsciously, I led them straight to you. Because I could have ignored the address—lived in vagrancy instead, but I was drawn to you again and again. I didn't even consider it, you know, the consequences. Not rationally at least. You did. Your escape was meticulously calculated. Where you triumphed, I fell. And I forced my mistakes onto your shoulders through those actions."

Ziyi looked as though he wanted to speak again, but Xukun quickly flipped his hand and squeezed the other's, causing the man to snap his lips shut. And then Ziyi's eyes seemed to almost drop to where his hand was placed overtop of the blonde's, but he blinked a few times and kept his attention glued onto Xukun's perfervid gaze. Xukun swallowed heavily. 

"I don't want you to regress anything you're feeling for my sake," he went on, "when I lashed out after Yanjun first showed up at the studio, I awakened something inside of you. For the first time, you delivered a blow—placed some of the blame on me. And, yeah, I felt like shit, but I also needed to hear it. I needed to know I wasn't being babied and pitied. That I could be accountable for my actions. I want to be accountable because I _am_ accountable. So what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to play hero or anything, I'm just—really sorry, Ziyi. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't be in this situation. So I'm sorry for putting you in this position, and I'm also sorry that—that part of me doesn't exactly regret it. And another part of me hates that half—but I can't help it, because I've been so happy here despite the lasting anxiety." He took a long breath then, and finished with, "if they do come tonight, I'm ready to face it with you. Together." 

The room fell back into silence then, and all was still. A few moments passed—maybe it was several minutes, maybe several seconds. And then it was broken again. Ziyi had opened his mouth, closed it, then nodded his head obligingly.

"I respect that you're reflecting on yourself. And I forgive you," he said knowing it was what the other needed to hear, and he watched as Xukun loosened from his tensity. "But I have my own regrets to share as well," he added hastily, and before Xukun could retaliate, Ziyi spilled.

"When I left, I unconsciously put you at risk. You said it yourself, they knew we were close, so when I left, they tried to get information from you. And we all know how Mask treats anyone who expresses even the smallest amount of rebellion. And I realized, wasn't that the whole reason that I left? Because I couldn't stand to be a part of such violent customs? And by doing so I amplified them onto you. Someone I _care_ about. I mean, shit, Kun," his voice became emotional, and rose a pitch, "I don't even want to think about what they did to you to try and get that information! I know you won't tell me because you're trying to quell my conscious, but I need to take responsibility too—"  
"It's not yours to take—"  
"Yes, it is!" And suddenly his hands were cupping the younger's cheeks. Xukun was sure, then, that Ziyi was on the verge of tears.  
"You don't think I saw it?" Ziyi continued, and a crack made itself clear in his voice. "When I checked you for trackers that time. When I saw what your body looked like beneath the layers of clothing—I know some of what I saw wasn't there before. And I didn't say anything because I couldn't bring it up at a time like that but—fucking hell, I didn't know if I wanted to blame the leader or myself."

Suddenly he pulled away, body quivering. He was almost shy, then, and his fingers were much lighter on Xukun's skin. But then, it was difficult for the younger to see, as the impassioned and harrowing look Ziyi had dominated anything else he was feeling.  
"I don't care that you think selfishness brought you here," he started, "because I'd rather you come with every selfish intention in mind, and get me into the absolute worst situation possible, than stay there and rot because of me." 

And the quietude crept into the room again. Their pleads and their regrets dissipated to intelligible echoes between ligneous floors. Xukun blinked through his gilded locks, and Ziyi resisted the urge to sweep them back. Instead the man withdrew both the intensity of his gaze and the hand that rested on the other's skin. When he did, Xukun shifted, but didn't make any effort to speak again. Not for a long time, at least. It almost seemed to Ziyi that they had, without explicitly stating so, agreed to return to being overly conscious of their surroundings. To let the conversation end at that. And then, Xukun did speak. 

"You're always so guarded and...careful when you touch me," he paused before asking, "why?" 

Ziyi blinked, dumbfounded. The question seemed almost ridiculous at such a time, but he let it roll around his mind anyway.  
"I don't know," he started, and it seemed at first that he would go on. Then he let the thought trail away.  
"I know you have good intentions," Xukun continued for the other, "but I'm not as fragile as I was back then. And I see it in your eyes—the hesitation—like you might shatter whatever trust I put into you. It's not like that, Ziyi. I mean, with you, I don't feel afraid." 

Xukun hadn't realized, but a small smile had formed across his coral lips. He looked at Ziyi, then, who sat nonplussed, and they locked eyes for the second time that night. They had both known for awhile now, what had started as an incipient friendship was quickly being changed to something different. The motor never stopped—and the affection moved valiantly. Something was beginning to bloom after months of tender nurturing. And yet they never found the strength to pick it up. They stilled, watched whatever blossomed between them, but always abjured from giving it a chance to flourish. So they left it, and every so often it would tickle their consciousness, as if to offer a subtle reminder that it wouldn't disappear. It was simple—they knew what it was, and yet neither could reach over and be the one to cultivate it. 

Xukun wondered for a long time if he was the only one to realize it. He waited for Ziyi to make the first move. But at that moment, he realized the man never would. Not with the history Xukun held over his shoulders like heavy shackles. And as much as the blonde still renounced unnecessary contact, he found that for the first time, he wanted it. It was warm and comforting when it came from the elder, a feeling he found himself yearning for more and more as time passed. Xukun had never been one to initiate contact—in fact, he had explicitly avoided it for as long as he could remember. 

For the first time, he began to shake off history, and flower into himself. 

He took Ziyi's hand and brought it up to his cheek. As he held it there, he curled his fingers along the palm of the other's hand. His movements were languid such to savour every touch before he could move on to the next. It was almost as though he were relishing the final moments of security. And when a few dithering beats echoed between them, his free hand caressed the line of the elder's jaw. And as they stared into each other's eyes, Xukun caught Ziyi's eyes flicker to his lips—just barely, and then they were on his eyes again. But it was enough for the blonde to take a leap of faith.

He leaned in, lips barely grazing over the other's. It was quick—too quick, and Xukun barely brushed the target before he slipped away again. He was shy all of a sudden, and when he brought his knuckles to his own lips, Ziyi found that the blonde seemed almost ingenuous in nature. His eyes were kindled with the caprice of a gesture he had pulled in a sudden state of longing. The two held a steady gaze. Ziyi had already flushed to a deep cerise, and Xukun found that he himself felt the warmth on his cheeks, forehead, and temples burgeoning away. He leaned in again, slower this time. With ease, Xukun focused on the target at hand and gently pressed his mouth against it. His tongue slid once across the other's lips, and with it he licked away the last morsel of hesitation.

Ziyi was the one who initiated the actual kiss. He had parted his lips and placed them between the blonde's accordingly. And, very slowly, they began to move in unison with one another. They felt the other's breath, hot and eager, and they inhaled it, switching between themselves and the other. Despite the aching need of fusion, the kiss never deepened farther than it had started. They were, rather, content and exultant with where they were. It seemed befitting. And Xukun was rejoiced, because being touched and caressed felt enticing. And it was comfortable to be slow—slow not because it was daunting, but because it felt pleasant that way—warm. Like he was in his own world—a cocoon, perhaps, with just himself and the black haired man. Like they couldn't be touched. It was warm. Blissfully so. For a moment, he was bewitched enough to forget whatever feared him previously.

And then, unforgivingly, a loud thud emerged. And the two quickly realized that it came from inside the cabin. 

Immediately, they pulled apart, heart racing just as fast but in a differing sense. The warmth that had made itself comfortable between them quickly retreated, and they were left with a haunting image of defeat. Xukun's cocoon began to break. Ziyi was the first to snap back into reality. The man leapt onto his feet, quickly followed by Xukun. They skipped berating themselves for not paying attention to their surroundings—as neither would repent for where their words had brought them. The door to their room had been shut tight, and as the dark haired male placed his index finger over his lips, he tiptoed to the entrance. Xukun's brows furrowed as he watched from a few meters distance, suddenly feeling the same inability to move he felt when Yanjun had first arrived. 

Ziyi placed a hand on the doorknob, but before he could open it, it was swung open from behind. And before them stood a figure in an ivory mask slashed in vermilion. A picture that was all too familiar. Xukun's mouth opened, and he managed to choke a booming "Ziyi!" before a needle was shoved into the older's neck. Ziyi stumbled back, and with the venom in his blood and the needle dangling off his skin, he spared a horrified look at the blonde before he fell. Xukun's jaw dropped, and immediately he was on his knees next to Ziyi, shaking the other violently as the body let itself be manhandled. Pleads for the elder to wake up dribbled off his lips messily. And when he looked up to the door to catch a glimpse at what would happen, the figure was gone. And then from behind, he felt the penetration strangle his own flesh. And when all went dark, he fell next to the other. 

***

A loud thud. 

That was the first thing Zhengting heard from the bathroom. His neck snapped up from where he was scrubbing his hands, and he caught himself in the mirror. The light in the bathroom was switched off as not to disturb the languorous state he had achieved from the sleep he had gotten before he awoke. The water pooled over his palms and threaded its way through the narrow openings of his fingers. When he didn't hear it again, Zhengting immediately forced the sink shut, ears suddenly perched and curious. Even so, the man was rather unperturbed at first. He would be foolish to blame the sound on something as fanciful as the wind. Instead, he assured himself that Zeren had somehow fallen off the bed, or that something of similar circumstance had unfolded. He suppressed the need to chortle at the thought, he wanted to remain comatose. 

It was only when he heard heavy steps from outside the door, a multitude to them, for that matter, that his demeanor changed. It was unnatural, he realized. Zhengting knew that nobody else should be awake, and even if they were, there were too many footsteps for it to be the others. Too many people. Moreover, the footsteps seemed careful and unmistakably restrictive, as though whoever stood outside the door was trying not to cause a disturbance. They were calculated, and yet daunting nevertheless, as though the foreign body were bred of malicious intention. Suddenly, something didn't sit right.

Then, another noise. 

"Ziyi!" 

Zhengting could hear Xukun gasp a shout from the next room over, and it was at that moment that he knew something was wrong. In a sudden fit of adrenaline, the man opened the door and dashed for his room. He pictured his phone laying on the bedside table, and he rushed for a chance to call for help. Just before he could, however, he felt a hand grab his arm and throw him against the adjoining wall. A rack of pain shot through his limbs as he dropped to the ground, and the man squeezed his eyes shut, muffling a cry. When he opened his eyes again, a figure stood before him. It was large, although Zhengting didn't know if it just seemed that way from the position he was in, and a grisly mask was placed over the person's face. Beyond the stranger, Zhengting could see the door to another room open, where he caught a glimpse of Zeren and Chaoze, both laying on the floor like rag dolls. More strangers in masks were looming over them, seemingly preparing some restraints. Zhengting felt his breath leave him. 

The figure before him pulled out a needle, and immediately, Zhengting began scrambling away. He kicked and yelped, but the other managed to grab him by the ankle and pull him back. As Zhengting slid over the old, wooden floor, he felt his back and head skidding across it violently, and then his entire backside was burning. Before he had the chance to blink, Zhengting was pinned to the ground, needle ready for impalement. The brunette writhed from beneath the stranger, using all of his remaining strength to break free. Alas, the figure had his limbs held down in a painful lock, and all Zhengting could do was let small, inaudible begs for mercy drop off his lips. 

And then, another thud. The stranger fell to the floor next to him, completely limp. Zhengting shuddered, realizing now that he was laying next to an unconscious body. He saw the blood pool from the figure's head and immediately made to scream again. Then he heard it.

"Zhengting!" 

The voice was familiar. Zhengting looked up and saw Yanchen standing there. The man was panting, bloodied metal pipe in hand. A weapon, Zhengting figured, that was used to attack the invaders. Yanchen had a gash across his forehead and his lips were tainted a dark crimson. Zhengting wondered what kind of scuffle the man had gotten into before, possibly trying to save some of the others—or himself. Or both. The dark haired man helped Zhengting to his feet then, wasting no time.  
"Yanchen? Wh-what's going on?" Zhengting breathed out in a rush.  
"They got the others," Yanchen started as he grasped Zhengting by the wrist and made to the stairs, "they've all been hit—Ziyi, Xukun, Chaoze and Zeren." He nearly choked out the last name, but quickly regained his composure. "I tried to stop it—I got slashed in a fight with one of them, but I took a few out cold with this pipe before I managed to get out myself. That's when I saw you. We need to get help, Zhengting. But first we need to get out of this place."  
"What about the others? Yanjun, Zhangjing and Wenjun?" Zhengting asked just as they got to the head of the stairs. Yanchen stopped all of a sudden, eyes dark.  
"I don't know," he said, "haven't seen them since we went to sleep. But I think getting help is our number one priority right now." 

Before Zhengting could answer, he saw a figure emerge from the dark behind Yanchen. It seemed to come out of nowhere. It was garbed in coal coloured garments, so the eye always fell on the colours that popped—the dirtied ivory and the darkened scarlet of the near identical mask they all wore. Zhengting opened a quivering mouth to warn his friend, but before he could speak, the needle was shoved into Yanchen's neck. Zhengting cried the man's name as he watched Yachen's eyes burst open in shock. And then, in a last fit of strength, Zhengting swore he saw Yanchen mouth him a _run_ , before he pushed him down the stairs. 

Zhengting tumbled down aggressively, before finally falling dead on his back and head. He felt the world go black for a moment, then it spun, and he lay there, breath knocked right out of him. He could feel the nail marks on his wrists and arms from where he had been grabbed. The scratches on his back from being dragged across the ground and the bruises from being thrown down a stairwell throbbed. He gasped a breath, and blinked heavily a couple times. From above the stairs he saw that Yanchen had already fallen victim to the drugs and was laying limply on the floor. 

Zhengting knew what he had to do.  
_I have to find the others!_ He told himself, climbing to his feet weakly. _Wenjun, Zhangjing and Yanjun...they could still be around somewhere._

He made for the front door and pushed it open. And just as he breathed his first breath of fresh air, he bumped into another body. It was sheer instinct now to avoid any person he came across. His head was still spiraling from the fall, and suddenly, Zhengting wanted to retch. The first impression he had was that the person before him was taller than he was, so he immediately covered his face with his arms and backed away in a final attempt at stabilization. Then, he heard his name for the second time that night.

"Zhengting?" 

And for the second time that night, it was a familiar voice. Zhengting dropped his hands, eyes suddenly blurring with hot tears. _Oh thank god,_ he thought to himself, _oh thank god it's not them. It's Wenjun._ He stared the taller in the eyes for a moment, assuaged by their encounter. So much so that he leapt forward and wrapped his arms around Wenjun's neck. The taller man's skin was cold as ice, in fact, Zhengting could scarcely hear his breath. The other didn't return the gesture, but the action was fast enough that Zhengting paid no mind to it as he pulled away, remembering the hustle.  
"We have to go—Wenjun, it's not safe here!" Zhengting said. But before he could run, Wenjun grabbed him by the shoulders, keeping him sturdy and in place. When they met eyes, Zhengting saw great pain, guilt, and humiliation swimming in the man's orbs. He only had a moment of confusion before the door behind him sung open again, and a masked figure stabbed a needle into him from behind. The last thing he saw before he fell was the face of someone he thought he could trust. 

***

"Where are we going?" Zhangjing managed to ask only after several minutes of trudging through the woods. And even then, it came out like a weakened peep—more so strained than pitched. Daylight had already been completely devoured for hours, and the man could barely see a few meters ahead. Yanjun pulled him down a narrow trail, keeping himself eerily silent all the while. He had kept a firm grip over the cuff of Zhangjing's sweater since he had woken him up earlier. The two had, as Yanjun felt necessary, not conversed since then. Yanjun had told Zhangjing to be quiet when he first awoke, and in a daze the man obliged, thinking nothing much of it. But as they fled from the cottage and set out through the forest in silence, Zhangjing couldn't help but feel as though he were stepping on pins and needles. Everything was still. The wind had ceased, and the cold had long abated. All that could be heard were their own footsteps—wary, but impatient nonetheless. 

Yanjun, unsurprisingly, had not answered the question. He didn't even flinch. 

When they got to the side of the road, the younger swung open the passenger's seat of Zeren's car. And still, as he maneuvered the smaller into the car, failed to even spare a glance at the man. In fact, it seemed as though he were purposefully avoiding any interaction—in terms of speech or anything else. Once Zhangjing was inside, Yanjun shut the door and went around to the other side, stepping into the driver's seat himself. He started the engine. It hurled and grumbled a few times, causing Yanjun to hiss something inaudible. The rumbling quieted then, as though muzzled by the man's edict. And they were on their way. 

Zhangjing scratched his nails against the seat below him, heart racing. He couldn't help but notice they were going in the opposite way that they had come. They trailed down an empty road, the trees on their left and right growing thicker and more condensed as they continued. It was cold, all of a sudden, and Zhangjing noticed how Yanjun failed to turn on the heating in the vehicle. At first he reasoned that the man had forgotten—but that wasn't like Yanjun at all. It must have been, rather, that the taller man _wanted_ to be numbed in a frigid, bitter reality. After a few minutes, Zhangjing turned to face Yanjun, who was staring at the road ahead, body and expression rigid. The smaller prayed that the man wouldn't suddenly return to being brusque and reserved. It happened sometimes, and the man would be cold and stoic as ever. And Zhangjing knew how brittle the younger was. When he was serious, it only meant he was feeling especially neurotic. Zhangjing swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. He was bustling with inquiries that needed a detailed explanation. Alas, all the man could sputter was, "how did you get the keys to Zeren's car?" 

No answer. Although Yanjun flinched quite dramatically at the sound of his voice. Zhangjing bit his lip.

"You have your own right?" He tried again. 

Still, no reply. Although now Yanjun's expression had changed. His brows were knit so close together and his lips had gone so pale from pursing that it seemed a nearly grueling expression to hold onto. Zhangjing stared, brooding. His heart ached when he saw the other like this. It was the expression he had when he was under a mountain of stress that he couldn't avoid nor speak about. It was the expression that Zhangjing had watched take Yanjun over so many times before. Zhangjing's expression softened, and as it did, Yanjun's hands turned white against the wheel. 

"Yanjun, you're upset," he said, consolingly, "please, let me help you. You can talk to me." 

And then, Yanjun turned to face him. His mouth had parted, as though he were about to yell. Tell the man off or simply utter a biting remark that would urge him to shut up. But when their eyes met, he froze. The world seemed to stop now, it was already dark outside, but suddenly it seemed pitch black. All they could see was each other. Face to face. Eye to eye. Soul to soul. And Yanjun could see warmth in the other's soul.

Then, the vehicle came to an abrupt stop. Yanjun had slammed his foot against the break with such strength that they both flew forward unwillingly. Zhangjing grasped onto the sides of the seat as though his life depended on it, and felt his breath escape him for a moment. His eyes expanded as he internalized the sudden action that had been committed. And then, all was still. Even the drumming of the truck had shut itself up. There was nothing but the two souls within. Nothing but Lin Yanjun and You Zhangjing. 

Then, Yanjun released a loud roar. Or it was, rather, a cry of pain. He slammed his fists against the steering wheel, a morose expression had quickly escalated to messy sobbing. He gurgled and wept and wailed inaudible regrets. It seemed as though years of pitiful torture had finally caught up to him. And he knew. He knew how Mask occluded his ideals. He knew that he was just a strangled soul tethered to a body, maimed from years of suffering. He had been healed time and time again by the man with the rabbit teeth—the man who drew soft circles across his skin like he couldn't help himself—the man who was with him, everytime. Anytime. He was torpid beyond explanation. Suddenly, the calculated voice ordering him to take Zhangjing to Mask was being muffled by his own. It gave him the worst headache he'd ever experienced. He wept some more. 

And what for? Yanjun knew he wanted to be with Zhangjing. It was why he was dragging the other to Mask. And yet after all the time he spent carefully calculating a plan—after everything, after the plan turned successful beyond compare, when they reached the grand finale, Yanjun did what he hated most. 

He crept away from robotic pattern. He thought for himself. He removed his mask. 

He _removed_ his mask. His Mask. 

Yanjun looked over to Zhangjing then, who had already begun drawing circles over his wrist. He held a small, warm smile over his lips. He seemed as though he didn't quite know what to say, but he spoke sweet nothings anyway.  
"It's okay," he muttered, "you're safe now, Yanjun. You have people who care about you now." 

And the people who cared about him, where were they? Not at home—with his father and mother, and not in Mask either. Ah, Yanjun knew. It was them. Chaoze. Zhengting. Zeren. Yanchen. Wenjun. Even Ziyi and Xukun.

You Zhangjing.

Suddenly, Yanjun knew where he had to be. He knew where he belonged. He sniffed a few times, adjusting himself, and thought, _fuck you_ to the veil he wore for so long. 

"Thank you, Zhangjing, for everything." 

And he reversed the car, made a u-turn in the middle of the dark road, heading back from where they came. Where they belonged. He would destroy the mission he had worked so hard to build and sought to achieve. Suddenly his eyes were vindictive.

He knew that he, Lin Yanjun, would be the third to rebel against Mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I update about as fast as a sloth lol, but I really appreciate everyone who's stuck with this story thus far! There'll be more to come :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effect of Yanjun's actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys believe it's been almost an entire year since I started uploading this fic...

It was dawn, and in the window behind the desk, where the olive-satin curtains had already been drawn away, Wenjun could see the bright disk begin to appear from beyond the horizon of land. The burnt-orange began permeating the brightening mauve, and long beams seemed to stretch into the verdant, polishing away transgressions born from darkness. It shined against bookcases with glazed doors, neighboring the desk centered in the room. The day was arriving, and that should have been an indication that the mission was over. That the pressure had retreated, sitting away from him, stuck in the past. Yes, the man _would have_ thought it incredibly serene if not for the unease circuiting the room. He felt the tension, thick and stifling. Like he was wreathed within as it made to catch him in a headlock. He stood, powerless and still—obsequious to the man before him. His head was lowered slightly, only enough to offer exiguous humility, which, though present, was minuscule in comparison to his profuse subservience. He stilled in this position, as though he were a sculpture of servility being dried away by quiet submission. He was waiting for the other to come to speech. Waiting for power to dominate a follower. 

Standing by the window, with his back to Wenjun, was the leader. He had not yet said a word since he brought Wenjun to his office. They'd already succeeded the kidnapping, but the pressure bellowed against every member involved in spite of their victory. Something didn't follow suit. Or rather, _someone_. Wenjun knew all too well what it would be about. It was the only flaw in the plan—the one thing that, perhaps most surprisingly, failed to follow order. 

It was Lin Yanjun, who was nowhere to be found. 

When they made it back to the small community of Mask, they expected for the man to come back in Zeren's car—which he explicitly promised to return in. And yet, even after hours of waiting, the man never showed up. Wenjun began to fidget shortly after the first two hours passed. He had no way of communicating with Yanjun, as his phone, and all access to outside life, had been taken away the moment he returned. The leader had the device, and Wenjun wondered if the man had perhaps attempted to call the other, or gotten any information regarding his colleague's disappearance. Wenjun wondered if, maybe, Yanjun had somehow gotten lost, or if the truck had broken down in the middle of the road, or if Zhangjing put up a bigger fight than he anticipated—no, no, it all seemed unlikely. Yanjun was meticulous to a fault. It had to be intentional. 

After some more time, Xiao Gui came down, and informed the taller of a special request made by the leader. One that demanded Wenjun come see him immediately. Wenjun nodded, but still, he couldn't help but notice how the younger man—who was normally childish or petulant when given orders—spoke in a way that was clear, cut, and direct. It was the way in which he spoke only when matters were critical. Wenjun ascended, and when he entered the room in which the other stood, they remained in quietude for several minutes. He watched the sun rise, and yet, as tension gripped him, he felt that the room was plagued with darkness.

Wenjun gulped. 

When the leader finally did turn, his eyes were lit in black fire. His expression was heavy and his lips thinned against themselves. He took a long breath, released all the aggression he could manage to extricate, and turned his body all the way forward.   
"Wenjun," he began, and although he tried to sound collected, Wenjun could hear the strain in his voice—a granule of vexation. "Where is Yanjun?" He inquired.   
Wenjun held himself impossibly still. Why was it that he felt such fear? The man seemed such a good leader in the beginning. But as beauty rose in the window behind him, Wenjun finally saw the leader's rotten nature being amplified. He saw the corrosion of a charmer, and just as a rose wilts with time, the leader shed away what was once a beautiful fable. The disruption of cultish propaganda seemed limpid, and his menacious behaviour came spiralling into sight. Wenjun swallowed.   
"I don't know," he finally murmured. 

There was a beat of silence then. The leader kept his gaze on Wenjun, and the man being watched dared not look the first in the eye, opting to stare at the window instead. Then, the leader opened a drawer from the cherry-wood desk, snatched the phone Wenjun had been using during the expedition, walked over to the man, and finally, handed it to him.   
"Call him, please," the leader prodded. Wenjun nodded and immediately dialed for the man at question. It wrung once, twice, three times—the ringing didn't stop. And everytime Wenjun heard the sound he prayed to hear the click of an answer followed by Yanjun's voice, cold and maybe slightly annoyed, informing Wenjun that he would be there shortly, along with a feasible excuse as to why he wasn't there already. He would grumble an apology before promising his return. It was what Wenjun wished desperately for as his fingers whitened over the device. Alas, a final ring sounded, and then, the automated voice message. Wenjun's heart sank. 

"Maybe if we dial again—"   
"I've already dialed numerous times," the leader cut in, "no answer."   
Wenjun felt his shoulders slumping. He felt defeated—confused—betrayed, maybe. He simply didn't understand why Yanjun pulled such a grave stunt at such a pressured time. The leader inhaled a sharp breath.

"Do you have any idea why he would do this now?" Asked the older man. Wenjun shook his head feverishly. The leader then released a sigh that was livid—practically scorched with treachery, before he went on.  
"First, he twists the plan by taking a separate vehicle. Then I'm told one of the new members we were meant to recruit is going with _him_ ," the leader elongated the final word, allowing it to slice across the room. "And nobody saw fit to tell me until the plan was in action? And now they're nowhere to be found!" 

The leader groaned, running his hands through his greasy locks, pacing the room. Wenjun had never seen him like this—he wasn't collected. He had lost control again, and it seemed now that he was talking more to himself than to Wenjun. "I least expected this betrayal from Yanjun, of all people! He'd always been so loyal and levelheaded—it doesn't make sense."   
He stopped suddenly, eyes gleaming as though he had figured something out. Then they narrowed, and he turned back to Wenjun. 

"Wenjun," he said with far less emotion, "was Yanjun familiar with the man he was taking with him?"  
Another beat.  
Then Wenjun said, "I believe they were childhood friends."

It was all it took for the spark to ignite in the older's eyes. A spark that marked the loss of control. The leader lashed out, throwing himself at Wenjun, grabbing the man by the collar. He opened his mouth, sharp, yellowed teeth on the verge of hissing something cruel. Wenjun barely had a moment to internalize what had happened before he felt the other's grip loosen. He saw immediately that it was Zhu Xingjie who stood before him, holding the man back. His eyes were dark, too, like Xingjie knew something. He had a thought that picked at his mind, and it sent his soul aflame. Yes, Xingjie did seem different since Wenjun had last been there. The something in his eyes gyrated. He'd changed. Wenjun looked behind him, where the door was opened again. Xiao Gui stood, eyes bulging. Presumably, he had gone to get Xingjie because of a bad intuition. Maybe, Wenjun wondered, Xiao Gui had overheard a part of their conversation, felt the tension, and gone for Xingjie—a man who, compared to the rest, would be most likely to intervene without hesitation. 

A twitch flickered across the older man's eyes. He was decomposing internally, and slowly, it began to rot his outer core. His ultimate command was lost in rash emotions of triumph and love, friendship and freedom trickled the minds of those who served him and beckoned them to escape tyranny. His control was being lost. And now, even Lin Yanjun, the man who seemed most loyal, had turned his back on the cult. The leader suppressed a roar. He looked at Wenjun, caught the man's eyes in a net of rage and kept them unmoving. He knew that there was one man who was responsible for what had happened. One man who started it all. The first man to disrupt what he had created. 

"I want to see Wang Ziyi," the leader uttered the name of the man who drew the first punch—who had caused the first ripple to settle within the leader's command. 

***

Yanjun awoke slowly. Above him, the window was left slightly ajar, and the natural odor was fresh, crisp, and sweet. The curtains were drawn, and bright, golden bars of mid-day sunlight scoured the room, embroidering it. The walls were no longer a mustard, but rather the colour of a Tuscan sun. The dresser was not of cedar, but rather resembled a bold pecan. Overtop of it, the calendula flowers, now vivid as lemons, sat on a white gourd vase. Yanjun fluttered his eyes a few times, and lowered his gaze. He was laying on peachy, cotton sheets that had been crumpled next to him. He knew what such serenity was. It was the coming of spring. 

Momentarily he stilled, admiring the pleasantries offered to his senses. The smell of late-morning air, the brightening colours, the soft, cotton surface, the sound of chirring grasshoppers. It seemed, in such a state, that the tragedies of life could not touch him anymore. 

And then he remembered. He was washed, suddenly, by the tribulation of unwanted memory. Yanjun sprung from the bed, hand gripping his scalp. He tried to piece together what had happened the night before. First—where was he? The man spun on his heels, overwhelmed by the flurry of emotion. Definitely at Zhangjing and Chaoze's place. Yes, he had driven both himself and the rabbit-like man back the night before. It was a sudden, rash decision done in a spark of bravery. His hands had trembled over the wheel, but his mind had been set. The rest of the night was hazy, but he knew that everyone else was gone. Everyone but— _where's Zhangjing?_

He dashed for the bedroom door, tore it open, and stepped into the open area behind it. His search didn't last long, as Zhangjing was there, sitting at the table with nothing but his cellphone in hand. His eyes caught Yanjun's when the younger stopped in his tracks. They shared a moment of surprise before Yanjun blinked away his confusion and started for the table. His mouth opened and closed an abnormal number of times before he realized he needed to sort his thoughts before speaking. Yanjun scoured the room as he went, looking as though he were searching for something. When he finally sat across Zhangjing, he closed the blinds from the window sitting to his left, peeked behind them once, warily, then drew them together again. The room was significantly darker without daylight, and Yanjun could only hold himself impossibly still. What he had done the night before was engulfing him like a tidal wave—he couldn't place where he had found the courage to act in such a way, but whatever bravery he did hold just several hours ago definitely wasn't as prominent anymore. In fact, it seemed that it had diluted to mere echoes of what it was, or even to nothingness, for that matter.

"I didn't want to wake you," Zhangjing started when it seemed obvious to him that Yanjun wouldn't speak. He fiddled with the device in his hand as he spoke. "I'm not all that sure what happened last night, but I get the feeling you're going through a lot. Coming back home is a good start." 

_Home._ Was that what Yanjun gathered the apartment was? Was that his home? He didn't know. He opened his mouth then, took a hesitating breath, then spoke.   
"Truthfully, I don't remember much about last night," he said as steadily as he could muster his voice to sound. Zhangjing nodded knowingly, as though he expected as much.   
"You were quite emotional. To sum up, you began driving us somewhere, and then turned around and drove us all the way back here. Once we got here, it was early morning already. You didn't talk much—and I didn't want to ask about it quite yet. You seemed...um...exhausted, I suppose. We only stopped once. It was near the beginning when you pulled over suddenly and went into the woods for a few minutes. When you came back to the truck you didn't say anything, but you drove us back here without stopping again. I assumed that you wanted to be home, so I wasn't all that surprised we ended up here. You fell asleep really fast," he smiled faintly then, but there was something not yet intelligible in the twitch of his lips, "I think you were really tired." 

Yanjun swallowed the brief overview of his actions. He remembered, then, what that sudden stop was for. A few minutes after he'd made the rash decision of turning back from his mission, he realized that both himself and his phone had also been bugged before he left for the two runaways. He and Wenjun had both been—knowingly and willingly at the time, tracked during their entire excursion. Yanjun had pulled over when he remembered this, brought himself deep enough into the woods bordering the road so that Zhangjing couldn't see his actions, and began his execution. He pulled a switchblade from an open patch in his boot, electing to follow Xukun in his footsteps. The thing would have to be cut out. 

Thick pellets of sweat raced down his temples and nape when Yanjun steadied the weapon over his left forearm—where the tracker was placed, and slowly began to press it into himself in order to carve the piece out. He could barely feel the sting of the cut, as it was being toppled and smothered by his pounding mind. He imagined attempting such perfidy against Mask would cause an absurd recollection of memories and doubts. Instead, his mind blanked. What he felt was a hollow pounding. Everything was hyper-focused on the action at hand and nothing more. Once he saw the piece fall to the ground and disappear into the darkness of a dead night, he threw the phone he had been given down with it. The man lifted a foot and stomped on both with such profound aggression that the device shattered completely and snapped in two. When he was sure that Mask had no way of tracking him anymore, he puffed a few warm breaths, pulled the sleeve back over his bleeding arm, and tramped back to the vehicle. He sat quietly while he drove them both home. 

Yanjun knew that since he had opted for such a path, he could not go back. He had chosen himself over the cult. And now, he had to play his cards with utmost rumination. He would have to be careful. Steady. For both his own sake as well as Zhangjing's. 

"I was tired," he assured weakly, because for some reason it felt like all he could say. His throat felt desiccated, and locked further speech away from his lips. His gaze wavered madly, and he suddenly wondered if Ziyi and Xukun had felt the same when they were in his position. 

Zhangjing nodded, and, to offer an explanation as to what he had been doing thus far, said, "I've tried calling them multiple times—Zhengting and Chaoze the most, but I've even tried Zeren, Yanchen, and Ziyi. None of them answered, which is weird, since I'm pretty sure we still had service up there. And it's already practically mid-day. I thought they'd be awake." 

Yanjun froze. His eyes widened along with his mouth, and he stuttered something incoherent before gathering the equanimity for proper speech.   
"No—" he said, much louder than he had meant it to come. He retreated then, swallowed something heavy, and decided that, whether he liked it or not, Zhangjing needed to know the truth. He would find out sooner or later, since nobody would answer no matter how often he called. They were gone. Everyone. _Gone._ Yanjun couldn't lie his way out of this one. He'd have to face the truth and nothing but the truth. The entirety of it. From beginning to end. 

"They won't answer you. They can't." Yanjun went on, attempting to the best of his ability to keep a steady temperament. He watched as the older's brows furrowed in a sudden, uncertain twitch. Yanjun swallowed again, although he could barely get anything down. His throat was still so dry that it felt painful to speak at all. Alas, he concluded that he had no choice. The only remaining problem was that he had no idea where to begin or how to explain. And so, the man decided that the best way for both himself and Zhangjing to understand was if he told the story from the beginning until the end. From the introduction until the chapter he was stuck on. To open everything he could. 

"When I was a kid," he started where Zhangjing might understand even a little, "my dad was both mentally and physically abusive. I was taught to wear a mask whenever I stepped outside, and it ruined me. One day, I met a person who showed me the beauty of truth. He showed me how to accept myself. So I ran away from home, leaving nothing but a short message to Chaoze. It was a lie, but it seemed that lying was all I was good for. Funny, isn't it? How that turns out? I ran to nowhere, scarcely kept myself from death. Then, when I thought I would never find freedom, I met a man who promised me a life of harmony, in seclusion to the cruel world we live in. I took his hand, and fell straight into his trap…" 

He went on, spilling every detail of his experience with Mask. He spoke of the leader, of the rituals, of Xukun and Ziyi and the other members—and eventually, of Wenjun. He spoke of his battle with himself and his environment. Of how he veiled himself of emotion while witnessing what he did. That being blind to hope was perpetual. Addicting, even. He spoke of the wicked things that were done once Ziyi left, and how the leader's demeanor changed with the loss of ultimate control over his followers. How the man became rash and diabolical. Ordering for iniquitous tasks. Ones Yanjun blinded himself to again and again. How, when Xukun left, he and Wenjun followed to drag them back despite knowing it would end in vast maltreatment. How he had manipulated the people around him endlessly with lies and more lies. How that too ate at his mentality. And then Zhangjing, who threatened to breach the shell Yanjun kept over again. Who, unknowingly, offered a life of solace. There was Chaoze and the rest of the group. And how, for the first time in a very long time, he felt the fringes of peace.

He had struggled and fought in his journey to take back the runaways. Constantly questioning if it were the right path to choose. He was persuaded by a devil's whisper that came through the speaker on his phone, everytime the leader called. In the end, he chose to stand against what he had stood with for years. He chose freedom. He chose himself. Unfortunately, however, he chose too late, and the others would still suffer the consequences of his actions thus far.

Zhangjing was silent when the younger man finished speaking. It lasted several minutes. He was collecting the story—evaluating it. Trying to understand it, perhaps. Yanjun bit his lip.   
"I know it's a lot—"  
"A lot?" Zhangjing scoffed a breath. But he said no more, simply stared at the other incredulously. Yanjun swallowed, and it seemed easier then. Somehow, allowing a buried truth to fall off his shoulders calmed his raging head. Yanjun simply acknowledged that the other would have to internalize the complexity of the story he had just retold. He saw the emotion shift in Zhangjing's eyes. Confusion, then disbelief, then contemplation, and slowly, a hint of comprehension. 

"Ziyi," the smaller started after a very long period of silence, "when he joined the team he barely spoke of himself or his history. He didn't seem to have any other friends or relatives. He was secretive, but we shrugged it off because he was so easy going." Zhangjing's brows drew together as he recollected memories that would justify Yanjun's truth. He took a long breath before he went on. "Xukun joined the team shortly after the date you said he left this...uh…'Mask' place. But more importantly, Zhengting wouldn't shut up about how he had bumped into Xukun one night before he joined the team. He said that Xukun was nervous—that he was trembling when they met that night. Zhengting swore he saw blood, and commented about how Xukun was constantly looking behind him...as if he were making sure he wasn't being followed. And the night Zhengting said it happened lines up with the day you told me Xukun left…" he trailed away, biting his lip. 

Yanjun frowned. He knew that Zhangjing had no choice but to believe him—it was a valid and genuine explanation, and everything fell together with it. That wouldn't mean, however, that it was an easy truth to swallow.   
"Xukun also never spoke of relatives. He lived with Ziyi so suddenly, and he didn't have a phone or anything of the sort. Almost like he was separated from the world. And they both—Ziyi and Xukun both left in such a hurry when you first showed up." He breathed a long breath, shaking his head back and forth. "I mean, is it true? It seems impossible." 

"I swear to you, it is, Zhangjing—" Yanjun reached out his hand to stop the other, as mid-sentence Zhangjing had taken his phone and began dialing once more. "They won't answer. They were taken last night when you were in the car with me."   
Zhangjing dropped the phone onto the table. The boom seemed uncharacteristically loud next to the episode of quietude and gentle whispering occurring thus far. And then there was nothing. 

Except that this wasn't true. There was, in fact, something. Something settling in Zhangjing's gaze. 

It was changing—materializing as some foreign gaze strew over the center of his pupil. His eyes were dropping, then hardening. The milk of his eyes distorted to a dusky scarlet, centered in a black, caliginous mist. His brows severed a long line between one another as they forced themselves together. His skin went pallid, and his lips thinned. What was the expression? Was it rage? Something more profound, maybe? Yanjun startled, having formerly never seen such a hard expression on the other man. Before he could react, however, Zhangjing pushed himself up from his seat, opened his mouth. 

Yanjun sank. 

***

While the leader had gone for Ziyi, the other three—Wenjun, Xingjie, and Xiao Gui found themselves all seated together in the latter's room. The two veteran members had their eyes locked onto Wenjun, who's laptop was open. Before leaving for Ziyi, the leader had demanded that Wenjun "check the damn tracker," as he had coined it. The elder man was not adept in understanding such technologies. He had tracked both Wenjun and Yanjun before their initial leaving, but Wenjun had had to set everything up for him, and operated it for the most part. As such, in a fit of fury the man enjoined Wenjun to figure it out. Once he had left for where Ziyi was currently staying, the two other members brought Wenjun to Xiao Gui's room. Wenjun stared at the screen, eyes wide. He swallowed.

"I don't see it," he murmured.   
"What do you mean?" Xingjie pushed himself from the wall he was leaning against, starting for Wenjun.  
"He must have gotten rid of it somehow. I can't find him anymore. I mean—it's not that difficult to get rid of, especially since Yanjun knew it was there."  
Xingjie stared at the speaker, then turned his gaze to Xiao Gui, who was just as stunned. The former dropped himself down on the mattress, slumping into himself. He pressed a palm against his silken black hair, and chuckled. For Xingjie, it was the final straw.

"What's so funny?" Xiao Gui asked, incredulous.  
"This," Xingjie waved his arm up, "all of it. It's all psychotic."   
Wenjun and Xiao Gui exchanged looks. Neither spoke before the elder went on, seemingly starting a ramble of sorts.

"This whole place is falling apart. I've been here long enough to see it. Mask started strong, but the leader is increasingly proving himself to be a fucking psycho. When Ziyi left, his whole demeanor changed. I mean, yeah, when you think about it, things were always a little bit different here—messed up. But when Ziyi escaped? Things escalated quickly. The leader changed. He became controlling—more so than before. And the shit he did to Xukun? Even to me for seemingly 'allowing it to happen' by failing to stop Ziyi? That was just vile. Pure evil. And then he gets paranoid—starts keeping everyone inside, doing more rituals, creating more rules, tracking Xukun. He basically let's Xukun leave and then what? Drags him back? That whole getaway fucked him in the head. I mean, the guy was already fucked, but now he's _worse_." Xingjie takes a breath, slowing the pace of his speech then, "what was he thinking letting so many new people in? Ones who didn't join willingly? I mean, Xukun and Ziyi is one thing. But why the hell did Yanjun and the leader think it was a good idea to bring so many more? How many more bodies are here now aside from Xukun and Ziyi? Four people? Possibly five? I don't know, but there are too many either way. Things are going to get out of control really fast now that they're here. And on top of all that, Yanjun—the leader's right hand man, disappeared into thin air. You know, like," he finished by doing a loud popping sound with his mouth. 

There was a beat of silence then. Xingjie raised his head, looked both men in the eye, then evoked a final remark. 

"Do you see where I'm getting at? This whole thing has brought out the leader's true colors. He's a sick, sick man. And the other members are starting to notice too. Everything is going to fall apart now—and the leader is so blind with anger that he isn't even taking notice." 

The three swallowed the rant and all of its statements. It was true, Mask was falling apart. And it seemed hopeless in the moment. 

"So what do you suggest we do about it?" Xiao Gui inquired, and there was a bitter bite to his words. Xingjie leaned back against his elbows, rolling his tongue around his mouth.   
"I think," he started, "we tear this place apart."   
Wenjun released a gasp that tore into the end of the former's words. He stood, looking down at the other with wide eyes.   
"Don't give me that look, Wenjun, I know you don't like it here. Not as much as you pretend to, at least."   
Wenjun retreated his gaze, guilty all of a sudden.   
"So what do you propose we do?" He asked. 

Xingjie gave a wicked grin, and it seemed as though he had been waiting for such a situation for a very long time. For the time to come when they could all collectively fulminate against Mask. A time of war against the hell they were all bound to. Xingjie parted his lips, and spoke his next words in a whisper.

"We think of a plan, that's what."

***

A large, cypress-wood door stood at the end of a long, otherwise empty hallway. When the leader stepped before it, there was a rattle of keys, followed by the swing of the door. Below him, darkness. Heavy, hollowed echoes rode down the stone steps of the chamber as he went. The man held out a flashlight until he got to the bottom, where he switched the thing off and instead pulled at a string just above him, causing a weak bulb to light up. Around him, walls made of heavy timbers became visible under the dim, amber hue. He strode forward, headed for a particular prison cell. 

When he finally got to Ziyi's cell he stopped to watch the man. The leader's eyes were half-lidded—inscrutable, almost. Void of emotion. Despite this, his intentions were clear. The animosity reeked more than the molding floors.

Ziyi's eyes fluttered open and shut as he tried to get a firm grasp of who the man before him was. Everything was smokey, and his head painfully fuzzy. He groaned when he attempted to speak, then felt the harsh pull against his wrists when he leaned forward. He blinked back obscurity, pulled again, and, unfailingly, felt something stop him short. He breathed a heavy breath and shook his head vigorously in attempt to break himself from whatever trance he was in. He was restrained—yes, handcuffed by the wrists, tethered somehow to the wall behind him. Alone. _Where's Xukun?_ The thought tried his mind, but then it ached again. Ziyi tensed against the bonds.

His actions were only interrupted when the leader grabbed the bars in a single, accelerated motion. It sent a pitched echo across the cell, and Ziyi stilled, blinked again. 

The leader leaned forward, smiled wryly.

"Wakey wakey Ziyi. It's time to wake up from your dream world. You're back home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I first started this fic I assumed chapter 20 would be the last one...clearly I was mistaken lol the plot ended up taking more time to write than I initially thought

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment your thoughts! Updates will probably be slow as I have a lot planned but not written and I’m really busy this summer. But I’ll try my best!


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